


A Dish Of My Own

by Rachrar



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Gen, minecraft au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2014-01-16
Packaged: 2017-12-29 09:18:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rachrar/pseuds/Rachrar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Geoff was out hunting, and heard a Creeper right behind himself. He braced for the explosion, but when none came, he opened his eyes to see that it wasn’t a Creeper at all; it was a boy in a Creeper Pelt. And his name was Gavin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 “Ssssss--”

“Shit!” Geoff immediately kicked off from the ground, tucking and rolling across the grass to his right, hitting a tree almost instantly. As he dazedly got to his feet, his ears registered the increased hissing of the Creeper. He was in no shape to move for at least a few seconds, seconds that the mob could easily use to end him. He leaned against the tree, closing his eyes and praying he had enough health to survive the explosion.

The hissing was right in his ear before it stopped abruptly, a noise of surprise and irritation after, clearly made by the Creeper itself. Geoff peeked open one eye, cursing the bright light of the sun before venturing to open the other. The Creeper was slowly backtracking, its eyes narrowed. It looked odd, and Geoff shook his head once to clear it before leaning forward, curious and confused. Why didn't the Creeper explode? Were there now non-suicidal Creepers? That would be great for Geoff, bad for the entire sentience part.

That's when he realized that he wasn't having issues with his sight; the Creeper's proportions WERE all wrong, because it wasn't a Creeper at all. It was a human dressed in a Creeper's pelt! He was reaching into a bag at his waist, making angry sounds as he apparently couldn't find what he was looking for. Sensing Geoff's eyes, his head jerked up, those bright blue eyes hitting Geoff's, confirming the man's thoughts. That was not a Creeper at all. But what the hell was it doing out in the wilderness, dressed and acting like the green mob?

It was freaky, first of all, and sad, secondly. Was he from a Village where a Zombie Siege had won? Regardless of wherever it came from, it was backing away fast, a low, angry sizzle emanating from his throat at Geoff's curious eyes. Geoff cleared his throat, the creature tensing and freezing in place, wary.

“Hello, there.” The words echoed through the dense wood, having spoken a touch too loudly for comfort. The Creeper-Boy flinched, eyes darting around as though expecting other humans to bolt from the trees and attack. When none did, he turned his gaze back on Geoff, squatting down to balance on his hands as well as his feet.

“Can you speak?” Geoff persisted. “I won't harm you.”

The boy's brow furrowed, attempting to make sense of the noises. Geoff didn't move; partly because he didn't know what the boy had in that bag of his, and also because his headache wasn't going away anytime soon, so it was far more comfortable under the shake of the oak, rather than attempting to venture into the sunlight.

The sun's rays began to angle down, the sky just barely reddening before the Creeper began to straighten. Geoff followed suit, warily watching his hands, his own resting on the hilt of the diamond sword.

“Gavin.” Geoff jumped when he heard the word. He spoke! The word was very low and sibilant, a clear accent from the Creepers sinking in his tone.

“Gavin?” Geoff repeated, pointing at the boy. “Is that your name?”

The boy rubbed at his nose, leaving gunpowder residue there from his hands. Geoff idly wondered if he carried TNT around to emulate the Creepers. He nodded. “Gavin.” He paused, clearly thinking for a moment before making an irritated hiss, then pointed to Geoff.

Geoff frowned, wondering what the Creeper-- Gavin, wanted, but it hit him so quickly after the confusion that he felt rather stupid. “Geoff. My name is Geoff.”

Gavin tilted his head. There were too many syllables, too quickly for him to follow, Geoff guessed. So, he said again, more slowly, “Geoff.” He pointed to himself. “Geoff.”

Gavin stared hard, then nodded once. “Geoff.”

The elder hesitated. Should he invite the boy to his home? Attempt to civilise him? Or should he allow him to roam free? He absently reached in his bag, pulling out some meat and taking a bite. Gavin perked up immediately, inching closer and locking his gaze on the meat. Geoff watched him sidle nearer, taking the opportunity to look at him more closely.

The boy was painfully thin, and he was dirty. Incredibly dirty. His hair stuck up in odd ways, matted, and his chin and upper lip were dusted with light fuzz, making Geoff guess his age to be in the lower twenties. When Gavin stopped moving, about three feet away, Geoff slowly held out his hand with the food, offering. Before his arm was even fully extended, Gavin leapt for it, snatching it and scurrying back a few feet, eating ravenously.

That cinched it. Geoff had taken care of kids in his time, helping Villagers and the like, and this made his chest ache. This boy needed proper care, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do it.

“Gavin?” The boy looked up, curious even as he continued to eat messily. “Will you come with me?” He asked as he pantomimed what he meant. When the boy's brows furrowed in confusion, Geoff attempted to mime it in a different way, making walking motions with his fingers and then pointing to himself, then Gavin, pointing towards the town he lived in. He repeated it and the question a few more times before the boy lit up in understanding.

“Geoff Gavin go?” He asked, clearly hoping it was the correct words to use. Geoff was mildly taken aback. He was either a quick learner, or knew more than he seemed.

“Yes. Gavin and Geoff go to town. Yes?” He cocked his head, making it more obviously a question.

Gavin thought it over as he licked his fingers clean, frowning when he realized there was no more food. He eyed Geoff's bag, making eating motions and pointing. Geoff caught on quickly. “I don't have any more,” he showed him the almost empty bag, minus a few ores. “More in town, though. Food in town.”

Gavin was suspicious, eyes narrowed, but walked warily closer, making motions for Geoff to lead on. Geoff took a few steps, watching if the boy would follow, and when he was satisfied that he would, he kept walking, checking on Gavin every once in a while.

The sun set and the moon began to rise before the lights of Achievement City came into view. Geoff held out his hand to Gavin, indicating for the boy to hold it. Gavin was perplexed as to why, holding up his own hand before himself and tilting his head. Geoff bit his lip, trying to think of how to explain it, and after about five minutes of miming that it would stop him from being hit with arrows, Gavin finally moved closer. Rather than taking his hand, though, he grabbed onto Geoff's arm, the cloth armor seeming far more safe than the hand. Geoff frowned, but took it as a victory for the day and led him into town.

It was quiet but for the baaing of the sheep and the random chicken clucking, but soon, they were before his own monolithic home. He pressed the button, motioning for Gavin to go inside, but Gavin stubbornly scowled, holding tighter. Geoff sighed. This was going to be difficult to explain.

He was spared the effort, though, when he heard Ray's voice. “Hey-oh!” He called back in greeting, Gavin immediately shrinking behind Geoff one hand very quickly diving into his pouch and pulling out a small sharpened stick.

Geoff put his arm around Gavin, murmuring gently and pushing down Gavin's hand, pointing his the bag the knife came from. Gavin shook his head, too scared to even think of replacing the weapon. By this time, though, Ray had come close enough to see the Creeper pelt, and notched an arrow to the bow, raising it.

Gavin's hackles rose, tensing his back and lowering himself slowly, a low hiss audible. Geoff spun to see what Gavin was so scared about, only to see Ray jerking his head to the side.

“Shhh, just move real slow Geoff, I can get him before he explodes.”

“No!” Geoff answered sharply, making the younger man flinch back involuntarily, the arrow and bow dropped to his side, though he kept it taut. Geoff stepped protectively in front of Gavin. “Put the bow away, Ray, this isn't a Creeper. It's a boy.”

Ray's eyebrows rose doubtfully, but hey, Geoff was the one next to the thing, he could explode if he wanted to. “If you say so, man.” He put the arrow away, holding the bow casually by his side. Geoff, though appeased, was still worried. Ray was the quickest on the draw and the deadliest shot, so the sight of the bow still in Ray's hand wasn't comforting. Nor did Gavin calm down, though he was less ruffled. His fingers held tightly onto the wooden knife, the hissing having subsided entirely, though he was still afraid.

“Alright, what did you find, Geoff?” Ray took a few steps nearer, wanting to see Geoff's haul, but Gavin's loud hiss echoed in the square, making Ray freeze in place. He didn't raise the bow, but looked questioningly to Geoff.

Geoff sighed again. “He's scared, Ray. Wouldn't you be in this situation?”

“Iunno, I've never dressed and acted like a Creeper. Why, actually, is he?” Ray put the bow away, finally, and Gavin relaxed visibly, though he clung to Geoff still.

“I don't know. I just found him in the woods. I thought I was gonna be blown to shit, but then it turned out to be this kid. Luckily for me, I think he ran out of TNT,” Geoff said, moving to lace his arm with Gavin's. This startled the boy, and he went to pull away before he caught sight of Ray again, choosing instead to pull closer.

“Weird.” Ray shook his head. “Alright, want me to get everybody else?”

“No need.” Ryan's voice answered from behind Ray as he emerged from the shadows.

“Fucking dicks, Ryan, could you NOT do that?” Michael snapped as he walked out of his own home, followed by Jack from his own.

“Do what?” Ryan laughed.

“Do the whole freaky sadistic Ryan appears from the fucking shadows maneuver,” Michael snorted. Ryan just shrugged, moving around Geoff to stand with the other three. Gavin made a small whimpering noise, shrinking behind Geoff, peeking out from under Geoff's arm to look at the assembled men. Geoff was glad that he was larger than Gavin, mostly to make him feel safe, but also to actually keep him out of range of weapons.

“Well, first off,” Geoff spoke up, the others silencing themselves and looking to him. “This isn't a Creeper, if you haven't noticed.”

Michael opened his mouth to make a snarky comment, but Jack elbowed him, and the lad stayed silent. Geoff waited to see if he was going to follow through with the intent, but Michael just shook his head.

“Secondly, his name is Gavin, and he's hungry as dicks.” Ray perked up, heading to his house without any prompting and returned with bread, meat, and some apples.

“I didn't know what he'd eat, so I brought out a bunch of stuff,” Ray grinned. “Gotta be nice, be hospitable and shit.”

Geoff turned to look at Gavin, motioning to the food. “Go ahead. You can have any of it.” Gavin's eyes flicked between Ray and Geoff, Geoff pointing to the food and Gavin a few more times before Gavin inched out from Geoff's shadow. Ray didn't move a muscle, not speaking either. He could see how taut Gavin's nerves were, and he sympathized. He had been raised most of his life in a miniscule village before finding Geoff, so he understood the awe the boy had with all the light and buildings of the city. Instead, Ray just offered a gentle smile, offering the food.

Gavin licked his lips nervously as he slowly made his way to Ray, checking back with Geoff a few times before he actually reached Ray. He reached out, hands shaking, as he took the meat. As soon as he realized Ray wasn't going to hurt him, he relaxed a bit and straightened more from the half crouch. Ray smiled more brightly, glad to see the boy warming up even the smallest bit.

“Hello.” Gavin flinched down, clutching the meat to his chest and staring up at Ray with big eyes. His jaw worked as he swallowed the hiss that was threatening to escape, finally answering with a halting, “H—ell—o.”

Ray's grin grew. Behind Gavin, Geoff puffed up, pleased with Ray's casual acceptance. Michael, Ryan, and Jack were talking amongst themselves quietly, looking over to the boy every once in a while. Ray pointed to himself. “Ray!” Pointing to Gavin, he said, “Gavin?”

Gavin listened, his anxiety easing a bit, and he finally straightened to his full height. The Creeper pelt no longer dragged on the ground, masking most of his body. Ray could see the boy properly, and saw one of his own age. It was actually pretty exciting, he wouldn't be the one Geoff fretted over because of his age anymore. Well, there was Michael, but he had kind of pushed the whole Mogar thing, so Geoff had stopped trying to help him beyond the common comrade assistance.

Gavin chewed on the meat, eyeing Ray up and down. “Ray.” Ray's returning smile was infectious, and a small smile graced Gavin's lips. After a few calm moments of companionship, Gavin eased back towards Geoff, though this time, he didn't hide behind him. Geoff smiled too, more gruffly than Ray, but just as warmly.

“I'm sure he's tired, so I think I'm gonna hit the hay. I'll tussle out a bath with him tomorrow. Want to help, Ray? He doesn't seem too afraid of you.” Ray nodded in agreement.

“Well, when I wake up with a slashed throat I'll know who to thank,” Michael muttered a bit too loudly, prompting a frown from Jack and a deeper one from Geoff.

“Shut up, Michael. Just go back to bed.” Michael huffed at Geoff, but made no answer, heading back to his own home. Jack and Ryan did the same, waving their good nights to everyone. Ray was the last, nibbling on an apple himself and waved as Geoff and Gavin went into Geoff's house.

Ray climbed up to sit on his roof, feet dangling over the edge and looking up into the sky. The moon was bright, thankfully, or he might have shot Gavin on sight, missing Geoff's darker colors entirely. He was glad he hadn't, he mused as he laid back on the dirt. The idea of Gavin forced into a back made him laugh. That was going to be one hell of a fight, and goddamn if he was going to miss it the next day.

Eventually, he wandered back into his own home, putting on some meat to cook overnight to pacify Gavin, and finally, he too slept.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting Gavin in a bath was more difficult than Geoff or Ray could have thought, let alone getting him to part with the Creeper hide.

“Oh my God, Gavin, please, just get in the pond!” Geoff's exasperated voice rang out in the mid-morning air. Gavin was clinging to the pole on the bridge so hard he might as well have been glued to it, making various angry noises in refusal.

Ray, of course, was laughing his ass off, sitting nearby and watching the antics. An hour had already passed and they were no closer to getting the boy in the water than when they had first started. He had to stop laughing, trying to catching his breath as Geoff ran a hand through his hair again, making a noise of frustration himself. Ray finally managed to breathe once more after his chest unclenched and air was able to rush into his lungs. He chuckled a few more times, but spoke clearly enough.

“Ya know, it might be because we aren't putting on a good example for him.”

“Fuck you,” Geoff answered, though when he sat down heavily on the cobblestone fence, he began to take off his shirt. At that, Gavin's noises finally stopped, and he watched curiously. When Geoff began to walk closer, Gavin thought he meant to attempt to pry him off and hissed. Geoff shook his head a few times before easing into the water, unable to hide the initial shock of cold from his face. Gavin looked smug at that, climbing up the pole higher and perching on the glowstone block rather like a triumphant cat.

Ray, for his part, stripped entirely in about two seconds, jumping into the shallow water in a ball. He hit the bottom and gasped, immediately regretting his decision, but surfaced with a bright enough smile. Gavin looked at Ray suspiciously when Ray began to speak to him.

“Come on in! It's great.” He made the overtures of cleaning, exaggerating the motions specifically so Gavin would understand. Geoff had to admit that it was a good idea, and followed suit, though he didn't take his boxers off in the water. He wasn't quite as free as Ray.

Gavin slowly began to edge lower and lower, eyeing the water warily. He reached out and just barely put his foot in, jerking it out immediately with an indigent hiss, glaring and making noises at the two men. Ray, for his part, was lazily floating about on his back at this point, whereas Geoff was trying to figure out a way to warm up the water without setting the nearby grass on fire.

“Hey, Ray?”

“Mm?”

“Know a way to warm the water up? I think he thinks it's too cold.” Geoff exited the water, standing before the small lava pit nearby and drying off. Ray frowned, sitting in the shallower side, leaning on his hand.

“We could put some cobblestone along one side, and lava in a pit on the other. The heat would travel through the cobblestone and heat the water up.”

Geoff looked at the area. There wasn't all that much unused space. “Maybe we could just do that to a corner, instead.” Ray shrugged, uncaring. He liked the water just fine. Well, not really, but he wasn't going to admit that to Gavin or Geoff.

Another couple of hours later, after roping in Ray and Ryan to move the blocks, there was the small lava pit on the corner of the water. Gavin had watched interestedly the entire time, coming down from the pole to actually follow Geoff around. Ryan made sure there wasn't going to be any lava mishaps before heading off, saying he needed to find another cow.

“There. Thank God. Maybe now he'll get in the water.” Geoff eased himself into the pond, sighing gratefully. Sure, he wasn't all that aching from any fights recently, but the warmth of the water was great. They should have done it before, he noted. Ray dunked into the water with another cannonball, though he aimed for an area he had deepened in the time he hadn't been helping with the lava. He paddled closer to the cobblestone as well, making noises of pleasure.

“Awh, man, this is great. Why didn't we do this to begin with? It would have made winter bathing so much easier.” Geoff shrugged.

“Iunno.” He looked up to Gavin. “Come on down, man. It's much better now. See? It's nice.” He continued in this vein, encouraging, sometimes saying ridiculous things, but making sure he said them in the same, soothing tone. Ray snorted water and had to climb up on the shore from laughing when Geoff said “ you little shit, come on down here, I know I want to clean your godforsaken hide though I'm afraid of the sheer insect population I'm sure you have.”

Gavin inched closer and closer, finally giving in and slipping in a bare foot again. When he didn't yank it right back out, Geoff praised any deity that would hear, and watched as the boy carefully put the small bag on the shore, as well as the pelt, before slipping down into the water, naked as the day he was born.

He made a small sound, akin to a purr, once he got to the even warmer parts, all but curling up on the cobblestone, though he pushed off every few seconds when the heat got too great. When the boy seemed as docile as he could get, Geoff waded over, holding a sponge. “Hey, Gavin, remember seeing us clean?”

Gavin's eyes opened from their drowsy, lazy state upon hearing his name. He watched as Geoff mimed washing himself, then motioned towards Gavin. “We're going to clean you, alright?” He inched closer. When Gavin didn't move, he began to carefully rub at the worst spots, getting the boy's back. He was careful; there were some splinters, making the boy hiss when touched, but he didn't bolt, merely glaring over his shoulder. Once they were all gone, though, and his back was clean, Gavin noticed that the rub of the sponge didn't hurt at all. He was mildly perplexed as to how, but with this positive experience behind him, Gavin closed his eyes and submitted to the cleaning.

“Hey, Gavin, can we clean your face?” Gavin looked himself over, having napped quietly, even over the mild row the other two had over whether they ought to clean Gavin's genitals, and if so, how. They ended up cleaning him carefully, watching him for any signs of discomfort; if a man was going to fight when hurt, It would certainly be his lower bits he'd be the most raring to go for. As it was, it went smoothly, even as Geoff had muttered under his breath when he lost the draw.

Gavin looked himself over, seeing the pink skin so different from what he had been used to, blinking in interest at the new look. In so doing, he caught his own reflection in the water and saw the dark splotches of blood as well as gunpowder on his nose. He watched how Ray washed his face, ducking it under the water and scrubbing with the sponge before surfacing, repeating the scrubbing motion only to duck back under again.

When he mimicked it though, some water got in his nose, and he surfaced with a splutter and an ear-splitting screech of irritation. Ray laughed while Geoff winced at the noise. “Let's not breathe the water, kid. Cover your nose, block it off.” He pinched his nose and ducked under for an example.

Gavin looked mulish, but did the same thing and was glad to see that he no longer had a burning sensation in his nose. When it was all said and done, he was cleaner than he had ever been in his memory, though when he got out of the water with the others, he went to put on his Creeper skin and was stopped by Ray.

“Whoa, man, this thing is rank. Let's get something else.” He offered his own clothes, not minding the walk back to his house naked, since Geoff had forgotten to grab a new outfit for Gavin.

Gavin was unwilling, but with some rather mild coercion, put it on. Geoff went to work, cleaning the pelt, and Gavin grabbed his bag, slinging it around his waist with the cord before looking at Ray expectantly. Ray frowned, wondering what to do.

“Go teach him some words, Ray. I've got my work cut out for me with this thing.” Geoff shook the pelt, attempting to get the caked on dirt off as Ray took Gavin's hand, much to the surprise of the boy. Gavin didn't pull away, though, following Ray peaceably enough. He decided to start small with words.

“Rose.” He pointed to the flowers adorning his home.

Gavin frowned, taking it in. He looked at a yellow flower, pointing there. “Rose?”

Ray shook his head. “Flower.” Gavin nodded, then paused thoughtfully.

He pointed to the rose. “Flower? Rose flower?”

“Yeah!” Ray beamed. “Wow, man, you catch on fast! Let's teach you some other stuff.”

From roses to grass, stone, and water, and even a block of TNT that he had to fight with Gavin over keeping, time flew past. The sun was quickly lowering to the horizon, but Gavin had a grasp of some basic words, even some minor modifiers. When Geoff came back, looking for the duo, he was almost surprised to see them conversing in basic sentences.

Gavin's hearing was keen, and he heard Geoff approach farther than Geoff thought was possible, smiling when he saw the cleaned hide. Geoff held it out for Gavin, who immediately went to drop the trousers and wear only the skin again.

“No, no, keep the pants on, Gavin!” Geoff hurriedly tugged the pants back up, tying them. “It's better that way. You don't get scratches.”

Gavin didn't understand why it was important, but seeing as they weren't all that uncomfortable, he kept them on, tossing on the Creeper skin over his shoulders and tugging the head on as a hood. Geoff was glad for this, turning his gaze to Ray.

“Oh my god, Ray, put on some damn pants!”

Ray laughed. “Why? It's comfortable, and I still have my sword. I mean, I _am_ wearing a shirt.”

“You little shit. Put some pants on or I'll show you why,” Geoff retorted, Ray waving it away but obediently walking to his house and finding some. In the meantime, Geoff made a greeting to Gavin. “How are you? Doing okay?”

Gavin nodded. “Gavin good. Geoff good? Ray bad?” He made motions towards the pants, having noticed that Ray hadn't put any on and was sent away.

“No, no, it's just better. More good,” Geoff tried to explain, but seeing as Gavin didn't see the deal about pants, gave up after a minute. Ray was returning, so he turned his next words to him. “Have you seen the others?”

“Oh, yeah, Michael said he was going out with Jack to get more food or gold or something, I didn't pay all that much attention, and Ryan's been gone all day after the lava pit. He says he still needs a new Edgar since I freed the last one.”

“Oh, that simplifies things a bit.”

“Yeah, especially since Gavin had one hell of a reaction to Ryan when I wasn't close enough to cling to.” Ray put his arm around Gavin protectively at the memory. Gavin leaned into it comfortably, focused on sharpening his small knife with a chunk of stone.

_Good,_ Geoff thought. _A friend his own age will be great in helping him learn how to be more human-like._ “Why? What happened?”

Ray sighed, an odd sound from the normally bubbly guy. “Iunno. I think Ryan scares him. Not that that's surprising, but when I suddenly hear an ear-splitting scream followed by some serious hissing, I figured there was a problem. Maybe Ryan attacked him before when he thought Gavin was a Creeper and never noticed the whole human thing.”

Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did Ryan threaten him or anything? Or did he just overreact to seeing him?”

“I didn't see, to be honest, but I didn't notice any new bruises or anything on him, I checked. I just heard Ryan say something, not close enough to hear properly, and then Gavin almost explodes.”

Gavin sat up at the last word. “Esssplode?”

“Uh... yeah. Boom? Big boom?” Geoff moved his hands to imitate an explosion, watching as Gavin's eyes lit up.

“Like essplode!” Gavin mimicked one himself, the noise very well done and making Ray jump, looking around for the damage for a moment before coming back to himself and realized it was Gavin.

“Damn, you're good at that!” Gavin understood enough to realize it was praise and positive, and he smiled. Ray ruffled Gavin's hair over the hood, pausing only when he heard an odd, choking hissing noise, pulling away. “Did I hurt you? Oh, man, I'm sorry!”

Gavin turned his face to Ray, though, his shoulders rolling from laughter, the name odd noise escaping his lips. “Good! Good!”

Ray's lips widened in a smile, and he laughed too. “Good,” Geoff said. “I was about to smack you sideways into next Tuesday.”

“Psh, you wouldn't.” Ray waved his hand dismissively, leaning back against a tree, Gavin leaning on him. He had to admit, the days were only getting better and better. Saving a feral kid, not to mention the feeling of taking care of a younger sibling, one he had missed for years since the Siege. He shook his head, pushing it away, choosing instead to simply listen as Geoff continued Gavin's speech lessons. It was almost like he was back home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some unrest stirs in Achievement City as the yearly tithe to the king approaches.

“How long is that Creeper going to live with us?” Ryan spoke quietly to Michael and Jack. Jack, for his part, looked uncomfortable, but didn't answer, looking away.

“As long as the king says he lives here,” Michael shrugged. “I mean, it isn't like the king himself brought the damn thing in-- oh, but wait, it fucking WAS!” He flopped back against the wall of the Kung Fu house, scowling and crossing his arms. “Disgusting, and to think we've deal with with it for weeks now.”

Ryan patted Michael on the shoulder. “Relax. The Creeper is only going to be here as long as the king is.”

“Fat comfort that is, smartass.” Michael stood up, dusting off his pants and tugging the bearskin from his head, inspecting it for problems to try and calm himself down. It was dark out, and he didn't want to get another week of restroom duty because he woke the king. “I mean, he's the one who founded the kingdom.”

Ryan frowned, reaching into a chest and pulling out a map, smoothing it out on the glass in the floor, ignoring the plaintive mooing of Edgar. “How large is the kingdom proper?”

Jack leaned forward, tracing the borders. “It's still fairly small. We made a foray North towards the Altar, however, beyond that and into the forest was overrun with the Skeletons. We only expand east to the soccer field, and to the south we're bordered by ice and ocean. The west is more kind to use, and we have ownership all the way to the edge of the peninsula. There's a continent across the West Sea, but it's too far to get by boat unless there is some serious planning. There's talk of islands to the southeast, but it isn't confirmed.”

Ryan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, the map area about a fourth filled. The magic of the land allowed them to know their borders, but not a step past them, so there was still a great deal of empty space. Michael peered over his shoulder, curious, his curls bouncing as he tried to peek over the broad-shouldered man. He was irritating, like a gnat, Ryan shoving him off absently. Michael just rolled his eyes.

“Where was Ray's village?” Jack frowned at that, perusing the map.

“You know, there's almost no information on it. All that we know if from Ray when he was found by Geoff, and he was just a toddler at the time. He was lucky...” Jack shook his head and sat down heavily. “He came from the northeast, but seeing as he was almost delirious from thirst and hunger, we can't put much stock on it.”

Ryan's eyes narrowed, tracing the paper with his finger as far northeast as the map extended, hovering in the blank space. “Perhaps a search is in order.”

“Why the fuck do we care about a Village that got destroyed by a Zombie Siege, let alone one where it happened almost twenty damn years ago?” Michael shoved his hat back on his head and picked up his diamond sword. “Whatever it is, it's almost sunrise, and I need to go get working on my crops. Tithe is coming due, and I don't have enough livestock to offer.”

“Use bone meal,” Ryan answered as he wrapped up the map and replaced it in his chest. “It'll be easy as long as you have seeds and a hoe.”

“Yeah, well, I don't. I'm a fighter, not a farmer, and I kind of lost my seeds last time I got knocked around by a fucking Skeleton.” Michael grimaced at the memory.

“Take some of mine, but next time, I won't be so kind.” Ryan reopened his chest and held out some seeds in a small pouch. “You have bone meal, right? And a water bucket?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm not a fucking child, Ryan, goddamn. Just a little busy keeping the center safe for his _oh so noble_ majesty.” Michael took the seeds anyway, though, tying the bag to his waist and heading off with a wave.

Jack followed soon after, uncomfortable with the brooding silence Ryan fell into interspaced only with the pathetic cow's moos. Ryan was just fine with that, closing the door after Jack and moving to sit down beside the emergency chicken's glass enclosure.

“Bit odd, don't you think?” He said, speaking to Edgar. He was running his hands up and down the glass absently, lost in his own world. “Jack and I have lived in this area as long as Geoff, but he's the one who claims the crown.” Ryan relaxed, watching the sun's ray's slip through the window in the door slowly, stirring only when he heard Ray beating on Geoff's door, asking for Gavin.

Ryan slipped out the door, his sword strapped to his back and a backpack slung over his shoulder, heading out. He left a note on his door, informing Geoff that he'd be gone for a few days, possibly a week on a hunting trip, then left for the Nether. He needed some nether wart and blaze rods, and that would be the place to go. Though it was incredibly dangerous, he thought it would be well worth the risk.

\---

Geoff eyed the note on Ryan's door, Gavin at his side. “What does note say?” The inquisitive lad asked.

Geoff sighed. “Ryan went on a hunting trip. And right before tithe, too. Of all the times...” The only time, his mind added, that he even had any kind of formality regarding his rule. Was Ryan refusing to give an offering? He doubted it, but he kept note of the day; a quarter-moon from the yearly harvest.

“Tithe?” Gavin asked, looking confused at the new word. He cleaned up well, it turned out, and his newfound living situation kept him well pleased, not to mention well fed. He had more knowledge of the language than had been initially thought, making Geoff think that Gavin might have been almost five, perhaps, when he was pulled from human society.

“Offering,” Geoff said, ruffling Gavin's hair. “It means that in return for creating the kingdom and creating a safe town to live in, they give me something they made with this gift, like food, or weapons. Anything, really, and it doesn't have to be big. Just something that wasn't obviously last minute.”

Gavin nodded. It made perfect sense to him. If you got something nice, you give something nice in return. “Oh. Hope he back soon.”

“Me too, Gavin. Me too.”

\---

The moon rose solemnly as the assembled members of Achievement City set off on the trek towards the royal throne, minus Ryan. Their gifts were piled in minecarts, pushed along the tracks made for just that purpose, covered with leathers to hide the contents. It was something of a tradition to surprise the king with the tithe.

Geoff, of course, was already at the throne, having been preparing the courtyard for the company soon to arrive, the full moon's light streaming down brightly, though overpowered with the torches placed neatly along the carpet edging. The noise of the procession echoed softly over the stone, alerting him to their upcoming presence. He climbed the steps of the throne slowly, putting the crown on only once he was in the seat. While he was glad to create the city, he had taken the post of king only when he had seen the chaos begin its slow creep in the town, establishing rules and guidelines only because he felt they were necessary.

He sat heavily on the throne, uncomfortable with the mass of gold surrounding him, along with the metal underneath his bum, making for a rather harsh seat. He did it on purpose though-- no king ought to feel comfortable on his throne, he thought, but only sit there because of duty.

“Hello,” he greeted in a more formal tone than he used everywhere when the procession filed in, the first inhabitants of Achievement City leading, some Villagers from the outskirts representing their towns following after. “Thank you for coming. This year has been kind to us, the harvest great, and the mob attacks low. Even so, we must always remember...” He continued on the usual speech, thanking them for their contribution and going over the reasons for the tithe, as well as a small history of the founding, as he did each year. While his voice rang out clearly, his mind was occupied, attempting to find Ryan in the mess of people, finding the distinctive colors of the kilt slip in among the crowd.

Wrapping up the speech, he turned his gaze back to the front of the audience. “And so, the tithe begins.”

Gavin stood near Ray, watching everything with curiosity. “Need to share thing?” he asked Ray, pointing to himself.

Ray shook his head, answering quietly. “No, not this year. Next year, yeah.” He put his finger to his lips. “Shhh. Gotta be quiet right now.” Gavin nodded.

Jack walked forward, pushing his cart along the track to the end, just to the side of the first step, and pulled the leather covering the goods off. Inside there was a cartful of diamonds, as well as an enchanted pickaxe. Geoff's eyebrows rose and his normally lidded eyes were wide as he whistled. “Damn, that's a lot of diamonds. I hope you have plenty at home, too, and didn't just give them all to me.”

Jack grinned. “You think I'd give every one of them to you? You're mad.” Geoff laughed at that.

“Thank you, Jack. This is a damn good gift.” He waved for Jack to push the cart to the side and cover it again, then Michael stepped forward with a large, bulging bag on his back.

“I bring you a fuckton of bread.” Michael put the bag down and opened the top, steaming loaves just out of the oven giving off a delicious aroma.

Geoff sniffed at the air. “Let me have one of those, will you? They look fucking great.” Michael ascended the stairs, taking care not to run up and shove one into Geoff's hand and making sure he didn't get any mud on the rich red carpet. Geoff took the bread and bit off a hunk, chewing thoughtfully. “You did great, Michael. Still warm from the furnace.”

Michael gave a shit-eating grin. “Only the best for you, my liege.”

Geoff snorted, setting the bread down on the small table by the throne. “Right. As good as it is, Michael, don't wait until the last minute. Kings aren't always going to tolerate it.”

Michael's mouth opened to make a retort, but no noise came out. The stark reminder of the king's laws echoed in his head, as well as the fact that Geoff pointedly reminded him of his authority, and he merely bowed before sidling back into the crowd sullenly.

Ray moved forward, startling Gavin, and the Creeper clad boy moved forward with him to Ray's surprise. “No, man, it's cool, this is just my offering.” Gavin shook his head stubbornly.

“No! Ray go, I go.” Ray sighed, looking to Geoff pleadingly. Geoff rubbed his chin thoughtfully, then shrugged.

“If he comes to the throne, he has to make a tithe of his own.” Ray's darker skin paled. He knew as well as Geoff did that there was nothing for him to offer.

“Your majesty, might I ask why?” Ray put his hand over Gavin's, squeezing lightly in comfort.

Geoff shifted in his seat, sighing. “Because that is how the law was made. If you come during the tithe to the throne, you must have an offering. I can't just go around breaking my own laws willy-nilly.”

Ray turned to Gavin, putting a serious expression on to impress his words on Gavin. “You can't go up unless you have an offering. You need something to give him if you go up. Do you understand?”

Gavin frowned, thinking it over, looking around to buy time. Geoff was patient, and didn't press. A bit of time passed before Gavin brightened, evidently coming to some conclusion. “Okay! I give gift!”

Ray frowned, taken aback. “Are you sure? You don't have to, you can just wait.”

“No, I give gift! It what right, yes?” Ray was forced to concede that, yes, it was right to give a gift to the king during the tithe.

“Do you have something to offer?” Geoff asked, leaning forward and looking Gavin's body up and down for a shape not commonly there. Gavin beamed up at the king.

“I go get offering! Be back!” He bolted out, pushing the crowd out of the way.

Geoff rose an eyebrow, but settled back into the throne. At least, as much as one could settle onto gold. “In the meantime, bring forth your tithe, Ray.”

Ray pulled the skins off of his minecart to reveal only a few dark bottles, far from the impressive fanfare Geoff expected of Ray. Ray picked up a bottle and approached the throne, kneeling and holding it up. “If I may...?”

“'Course, come up here and show me what it is.”

Ray walked up the steps, stopping one below Geoff, and handed it to the king. Geoff pulled out the cork, smelling it curiously, then recoiled back, shaking his head. “Damn, Ray! I knew you could make alcohol, but this shit is strong!”

Ray grinned. “You wanted more bang, I gave you bang.”

“You little shit,” Geoff ruffled Ray's hair affectionately. “This is great. Thanks, Ray.”

Ray's grin only grew. “I try.” He wheeled the minecart out of the way, setting the bottles right in the bin before returning to the crowd. Just as Ryan began to push forward, looking irritated, a loud whoop was heard outside the courtyard walls, followed by a running green blur.

Gavin ran up the steps and skidded to a stop before Geoff, smiling triumphantly and holding up a bottle of some unidentifiable liquid. “Tithe!”

Geoff leaned back on the throne, frowning, though he took it, wary of its contents. “What... is this?”

Gavin made some noises as he tried to come up with the right words, finally settling on, “Good drink!”

The king rose an eyebrow. “What does it do?” He turned the bottle over in his hands, curious. It was a shade darker than a health potion, but not nearly the color of a harming one, and there were no specks of gunpowder to make it into a splash potion, so he assumed it was just a oddly made potion, but what was it it, he couldn't say.

Gavin shifted his weight back and forth. “It... it... stop hurt.” He pointed to his head. “No more ow!”

Michael elbowed Ryan, speaking in hushed tones. “Do you know what the hell he put in that?” Ryan shook his head.

“I just know what makes potions work best. I don't know what he put in that goo,” he whispered back. “Why would I?”

“Iunno, I thought you would be able to tell what any kind of fucking potion was just by looking at it,” Michael said, only to be shushed by a nearby Villager. He glared, making a stupid face behind the Villager's back, but stayed silent, shaking his head.

Geoff set it aside, frowning just slightly. “Thank you, Gavin. I'm sure it will be... helpful when I need it.”

“No, no, I not tell right!” Gavin piped up, looking frustrated. “Geoff head hurt lot in light, make better, when no more--” He waved towards the cart where Ray's drinks were. “I see Geoff need more, and this make better!”

Geoff was impressed, to say the least. “Well, I'm glad you made this. Thank you. Did you have help?”

Gavin nodded enthusiastically. “Ray help!” Ray looked uneasy with that.

“Uh, I just told him what each ingredient does, and what its name was...” He said weakly.

“I'm sure it's fine.” Geoff pinched the bridge of his nose. The only reason he had called the tithe at night, and had been, was indeed because he had run out of Ray's drink to tide him over in the day, when the light was too bright to bear. “Well, I trust you know what you're doing. You did survive on your own for a damn long time.”

Gavin smiled. “Glad!” He hopped down the stairs, taking his place beside Ray. Ryan continued his original walk, kneeling at the bottom of the stairs and pushing forward a small basket. Inside were about a dozen bottles of potions.

“I bring you potions of my own.” He looked a bit cross, understandably, as his gift was going to be unique until Gavin happened. “They're the strongest healing potions I could make. That's why I was gone for so long, my liege, I had to get the ingredients for these.”

Geoff had to admit it made sense. Some of the ingredients, like nether wart, were only available in the Nether, and they all knew the danger the Nether gave. “Alright. Next time, don't take off right before the tithe, alright?”

“Of course. My apologies.” Ryan stood and put his basket with the other offerings, returning to the crowd. The Villagers began to come forward, usually one at a time, sometimes in pairs, giving their tithes. Geoff's courtyard was summarily filled with bread, a few cows, and other assorted gifts of the farmer people.

He sunk lower and lower in his seat, drowsy as the night wore on. Eventually, all the gifts were done and the tithes made. He dismissed them all with a yawn, heading to his own bedchamber as the sun peeked over the horizon. He collapsed into bed gratefully, snuggling into the many furs afforded to him, and slept deeply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is coming, and with it, a storm to close them all inside.

 Winter came with a fury, ice and snow building at a prestigious rate, piling high and almost covering the doors entirely. The white layers covered Ray's roses and the farm fields alike, blanketing them in the clean white expanse. The cold drove most of them into quasi-hibernation, refusing to leave their homes unless of dire need, but the stock-up for winter, which was most the tithe given to Geoff, was dispersed smoothly and easily, and no belly went unfed. Some of them, the hunters especially, actually ate better than they often did on their own, as their meals were no longer dictated by the kills they brought down. The quiet calm of the winter storm raging outside was a perfect time to continue to teach Gavin more words, as well as how to write.

And so, time passed, and Gavin learned a great deal more, and faster, than expected. Two moons after the Tithe, winter's wrath came down in full fury, hail falling to the ground and gouging at the earth. Geoff looked out the door worriedly. Though the other inhabitants of Achievement City had been coming by once every few days to get out of their homes and get food, he couldn't help be be concerned over the worsening storm. From the color of the sky and unrelenting sleet, he assumed this was going to be a savage one.

He began pulling on coats, putting a helmet on his head for safety. Gavin looked up from the book he was laboriously poring over, his patience exhausted entirely. “Where are you going?”

Geoff adjusted the top layer of furs. “I'm going to get everybody and gather them in here, that way when the storm breaks, we'll all be safe. Jack's house is already dangerous enough, I don't want to think about what would happen if the snow and ice got in.”

Gavin stood up, stretching his sore muscles and put on his Creeper skin. “I'll go too.”

“No, you stay.” Geoff's voice was firm as he put his hand on the door, one poised above the button. “I'll force you onto toilet duty if you follow me, and it's cold as dicks outside anyway.” Gavin wavered, uncertain, but before he could mount a counter, Geoff was outside, his form vanishing in the shifting snow. Gavin ran to the door, peering out the small windows of the iron door, but the white storm was all-encompassing, and he saw nothing.

He sulked at the door for a few minutes before he realized it might well be hours before Geoff returned, with the ferocity of the storm as it as. And to think there was worse yet to come. Gavin, though he had lived in the wild, had never been caught in snow like this, always hiding deep down in the earth where the lava pits kept the air warm and cozy. After all, there were enough bats down there to wait out the winter before, and so he was entirely baffled by the tempest. He sidled off, back to the book, his hands holding it only listlessly.

It felt like days before the door suddenly burst open, a flurry of snow and cold wind bursting in, along with the other four inhabitants of the city, almost falling inside in a pile. Michael, of course, cursed up a storm, Ray cracking jokes, and Jack just made sure nobody got trampled, picking up Michael and bodily moving him from the floor to allow everybody else inside.

Gavin jumped to his feet, running around and getting everybody some hot cocoa, a recipe he had learned from Geoff-- thankfully, there was a bag of mix Geoff had on hand and it was just a matter of heating the milk. Soon, everybody was sitting inside at a small table, swathed in furs and clutching at the cups like lifelines. Even Ryan's foreboding presence was somewhat diminished when he was a tangle of furs, sporting a bright red nose and an occasional cough. Michael was much the same beside him, sneezing every so often and gulping at the milk, interspacing the drinks with cursing over tongue burns. Ray, for his part, was curled up under as many furs as he could get, an unmoving lump in the corner with sniffles. Jack was the only one seeming to be anywhere near comfortable, wearing the least covering and sipping at his hot cocoa slowly, his glasses on the table so the ice and water would sluice off. Geoff, though, looked the worst.

As soon as he had made sure everybody was inside and warmed, starting a brisk fire and keeping a water bucket nearby, he collapsed into his simple bed, pulling the covers over himself and resting. His face was snow-burned and raw, and where his face wasn't scarlet from cold, it was pale. Deep, wet coughs kept him awake as the night progressed and the other five spoke amongst themselves quietly.

“Will be be alright?” Gavin asked softly. “That sounds bad.”

Ray shrugged. “He should be. There isn't much we can do. We can make sure he doesn't die, but the potions we have aren't for something like a cold. Did he run out of my drinks? They'll help clear out his lungs if he takes a couple of shots hard.”

Ryan nodded in agreement. “He'll cough a lung out, that's for sure, but it'll get all the phlegm out too.”

“His lung?!” Gavin exclaimed, bolting to his feet hard enough that his chair fell back, hitting the ground loudly. Geoff stirred in his bed, peering out blearily.

“It's nothing, Geoff. Go the fuck back to sleep.” Michael made a shooing motion with his hands, and Geoff didn't reply, crumpling back onto the bed with a harsh coughing fit. He turned back to Gavin, irritable from the cold. “It isn't literal. It's a saying.”

Gavin didn't look convinced, but when Ray added his support, he picked the chair back up, sitting down on it uneasily, pulling up his legs and crossing them. He leaned his head on the table, the very sight of a worried man, burying his face in his arms. “I just hope he gets better soon.”

Ray patted Gavin on the shoulder, giving small reassurances for a while until he, too, fell into silence. It was unbroken but for the soft thuds of the wind outside, but the door was well-made and did not let much of a draft in, quickly plugged up by the snow itself. After a long stretch of time, Jack stood, stretching his legs, and sighed.

“We ought to sleep. The storm is going to hit probably tomorrow, maybe tomorrow night at the lastest, and it's going to be hard enough to keep the little air vents of the door open when the slow is piling higher than a man.”

Gavin frowned. “Why do we need to do that?”

“Because you'll die from lack of oxygen, you dumb fuck,” Michael snapped, and Gavin recoiled visibly, looking at the ground and scuffing his feet along the ground.

“Sorry.” Michael just sniffed, pouring himself another cup of cocoa.

“I'm fine. I'll keep watch for now and let you know when the weather changes so we can make a rotating watch.”

“Good plan,” Jack agreed, taking his pile of furs to an open space. Everybody else did much the same, and soon, the air was filled with their snoring.

\---

Gavin was shaken awake what felt like a blink of an eye later, opening his eyes slowly and groggily sitting up. He rubbed at his eyes for a moment before looking to who woke him up-- Jack. “You need to look after the door now. The storm started, and it's going to be harsh. You need to make sure that there's always space on the top of the door to the air, and the windows on it are open. It's cold, but we need the air.”

Gavin stared blankly, processing it slowly.

“Do you understand?” Jack asked, a bit concerned. He knew Gavin was coming along in understanding words, but he might not have been quite there yet for all he knew.

Gavin yawned once more, but pushed the furs off, stretching. “I understand.” It was a simple response, not entirely what he wanted to say, but it was all he was sure he said correctly, so he left it at that. Jack kept his gaze on him for a few moments longer, then, satisfied, he went to sleep himself.

Gavin made himself a cup of cocoa, drinking at it slowly as the minutes passed. He glanced to the clock that Geoff had placed on the wall; it was just past dawn. The lack of windows in the home contributed to the lack of sunlight, so he was rather surprised at the time. He walked over to the door, peering out and holding the cocoa close, as if to leech the warmth from the small cup.

It was blinding outside, from what little he could see, not that it was far. He couldn't see Jack or Michael's house, the falling snow obscured any attempt at seeing much further than a foot or two. He set his cup back down on the table, then opened the door just enough to shove some snow out of the way, clearing a space. The sunlight streamed down on the displaced snow, reflecting off painfully bright, causing Gavin to squint painfully. He took the sunlight piercing his eyes as a hint that the snow was moved enough, and returned inside once more, sitting at the table and gratefully gulping on the cocoa.

He was just slipping into a light drowse before there was a sudden flurry of movement and coughing behind him. He turned, seeing Geoff push himself out of his bed and to a sitting position, leaning forward and hacking hard enough to make his whole body convulse. Gavin walked over, troubled.

“Are you okay?” He asked, frowning. “I can get you something hot to drink if you want...”

Geoff shook his head, immediately putting a hand up as if the world didn't stop moving when his head did. “No, no,” he said hoarsely. “Just... just get me a healing potion, will you? It'll help me feel a little better at least for a moment.”

“Which one?” Gavin looked Geoff over, trying to ascertain which would be the most helpful. Geoff was flinching at the sound of Gavin's voice, and hiding his eyes, but there was a peculiar red flush under his cheeks and he was sweating profusely, even in the cold air.

“I don't care. Just get me one.” Gavin nodded and headed to the small pile. While he was sure his potion would help, running his hand along the bottle and regarding the small tag with his name written there (Ray had written it for him to label it as Gavin's so it wouldn't get mixed up in the others), he decided to trust Ryan's instead. He clearly had a lot of practice making potions, so it would be the better choice. He grabbed one of the bright red concoctions, hustling back over, careful not to drop it.

He passed it over to Geoff, but with his fingers slick with sweat and exhausted, he wasn't able to pull the stopper out. Once Gavin realized the problem, he gently took the bottle from Geoff and pulled it out himself, and helped Geoff hold the weight and he drank the entire thing.

Sighing in momentary contentment, Geoff fell back on the bed, closing his eyes. “Thank you, Gavin.” Gavin waited by Geoff's beside for a while longer, not wanting to leave him alone when he seemed so sick, though he kept an eye on the door as well.

Noon came, and with it, Ryan awoke. He had the easiest tromp over, being right next door, so it was hardly surprising. “I can take over from here,” he said, his deep voice almost a rumble, startling Gavin so much that he fell from the chair he had perched on, earning himself a few chuckles. “You alright?”

Gavin mumbled something resembling agreement, settling down. Geoff chose that moment to erupt in another fit, and when Gavin made as if to rise, Ryan waved him back down. Gavin assented slowly, watching and listening, but Geoff just asked for another potion, which Ryan willingly gave. When Geoff subsided into sleep, so did Gavin.

\---

A loud shout made Gavin jump to his feet, not even fully aware of what was going on but his hand going to his small knife, fumbling when he remembered he no longer kept his bag on him. He pushed the strands of hair from his face that covered his eyes, looking around in a panic. Jack and Michael woke too, Ray complaining and Michael muttering obscenities. Ryan was by Geoff's bed, pale and with hair mussed, clearly from running his hands through it so many times.

“What the fuck was that for?” Michael asked without seeing Ryan just yet, but once he did, further curses died on his lips. By this time, everybody had started to creep closer, the sight of a distraught Ryan worrisome. “What is it?”

Ryan swallowed hard. “The-- the king...” He made a motion towards the lumpy shape on the bed. There was a certain coldness in the air, and Gavin felt his skin prickle.

Jack, the calmest of all of them strode forward, putting two fingers to Geoff's neck. They all waited, a long heavy silence, until Jack pulled his fingers away slowly, shaking his head mutely. It slowly broke into comprehension for each of them in turn; the king was dead. Geoff was dead.

Gavin made an odd, hiccuping noise and slid to the ground, tears well in his eyes. The rest of them looked to each other, at a loss for what to do, even as the storm raged outside. Jack took a few steps away, taking deep breaths. Ray looked ready to fall over, much like Gavin, and Michael was simply at an utter loss, the silence rare from the curly-haired man. Ryan didn't move, shoulders shaking slightly as he shook his head, wiping at his face before looking up, steeling his back.

He walked between them, their eyes following him in confusion, as he stopped at the armor rack of the king's finest, most rarely worn and thus, most kingly, attire. He reached out slowly, touching and caressing the golden crown for a moment before plucking it off the stand, placing it on his own head and turning to face the assembled crowd.

“We cannot be long without a king, else the land will fall into chaos.”

Michael stared, mouth agape, but was the first to go to one knee, head bowed. The rest followed slowly, leaving Gavin alone, staring at Ryan. Some cruel twist in his eyes made Gavin quail, swallowing down hard refusal and slowly, so slowly, following suit. Once all were prostrate before him, Michael spoke, his voice tremulous.

“All hail the new king.”

A bedraggled “hail!” followed, but it was motley, and empty.

“I said, all hail the new fucking king!” Michael exclaimed more forcefully, irritated.

“Hail! Hail! Hail to the new king!” They were more composed this time, almost harmonious. Gavin looked up, unlike the rest to meet the gaze of the new ruler.

A faint smile played at the ends of Ryan's lips.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan’s reign has just begun, and major changes are on the way, along with a more sinister threat against Gavin.

The snowstorm blew itself out within a couple of hours, leaving the ground piled high with snow and all but covering the door. Jack took care of preparing Geoff for burial, arranging him neatly on the bed, and constructing a coffin from some of the planks in the basement. When the next day dawned, the sun watched the funeral procession, its light shining down weakly and without any warmth. Swathed in furs and loaded down with the body, it was difficult to trudge through the snow, even though Ray went first, clearing a path as best he could. Gavin didn't know where they were going, following listlessly, eyes dried of tears by the stinging cold, though Jack's shoulders shook every once in a while, the coffin listing to the side before it was fixed quickly.

Ray stopped, causing the slow parade to cease movement as well. Gavin looked up, wondering where they were only to be greeted with the sight of a massive sheep, and right next to it, a Creeper. He tensed, ready to run, but after a moment, it became clear that they were just statues. He walked forward and put a hand on the Creeper's foot, feeling the rough texture of the wool, sniffling.

Ray put a hand on Gavin's shoulder, speaking quietly. “This was going to be a gift for you. He started it when you were sleeping, and Jack and I helped him finish it. It was going to celebrate the day you came to us as a birthday.” Gavin choked on a sob, and after a few seconds of hard struggle, dissolved into tears, collapsing on Ray.

Jack, Michael, and Ryan set down the casket gently, Michael and Jack pulling out shovels and beginning to dig. The ground was hard, but persistence won out in the end, and the grave was ready within a few hours. The air was warming, though their breaths were still visible, and the sun peeked out as the clouds began to move, the snow finally ceasing entirely. Once Geoff was lowered into the grave, they stared at the hole, each to their own thoughts.

“He was a good king,” Ryan said, interrupting the silence. “And will be missed by all. He created this kingdom, and it will only grow from here on out. His memory will never be forgotten. Good bye, Geoff.” He picked up a clod of dirt, breaking it in his hands and letting it trickle into the hole.

Michael picked up some dirt, shifting it from hand to hand. “He took me in after he found me mauled by a wolf, you know. I almost died. Without him, I would have.” He lapsed into silence, but nobody pressed. He still had more yet to say, if the dirt remaining in his hands was any indication. “Geoff and Jack were like fathers. I couldn't wish for anybody better. Good-bye, Geoff...” The earth fell into the grave with a soft thud.

Jack let fall his handful without saying anything, though he took off his glasses and wiping at his eyes multiple times. He couldn't think of anything to say, not yet, when the wound was so raw. He would come back later, when the grass covered him like a comforting blanket, keeping him warm and comfortable. But with the scar in the earth so closely mimicking his heavy heart, words were too much.

Ray stood up from his squat, a massive ball of packed dirt in his hands. Why he needed a veritable boulder was anybody's guess, but nobody questioned him. “Thanks, Geoff. I'll never forget you. I wish my family could have lived to meet you... I'm sure my mom would have been glad for a father figure in my life. You were...” He sniffed hard. “You were the bed dad I ever had. And don't think I'm not gonna come visit you and talk your ear off, cause I am! I just wish you could talk back. G-good-bye Geoff...” He tossed in the dirt, watching the mound break over and, like sand, pour over the coffin and flow into the gaps.

Gavin crouched at the edge of the grave, staring blankly at the wood. “I will miss you...” He pushed in some dirt, seeing it fall almost like a waterfall. “But I will always be here...” He pointed to the giant Creeper with a faltering smile. “I'll watch over you forever. I'm not going anywhere.”

Ray suppressed a sob, picking up the shovel and moving to the mound of earth, but he was stopped by Gavin's hand on his. “I can do it.” Ray surrendered the shovel immediately, barely able to see through the tears clouding his vision. The only break in the silence was Gavin's slow, methodical packing of the earth, and soon, it was covered, a brown blight on the snow covered grass around. He patted it down flat, taking a step away. Ray laid a rose at the head of the grave, waiting a beat before he turned away, heading back to Achievement City.

\---

They stayed in Geoff's house, though avoiding Geoff's things and living area, leaving it as it was before his death. Things were much the same until the weather broke and sunlight began to melt the snow, the water sluicing off and filling the pond under the bridge, the lava pit that kept it warm now a solid hunk of obsidian. There was finally only about a foot of snow before they emerged from Geoff's home, splitting up and going to their own. Some time was given to each of them to fix up their homes, and repair any damage made by the blizzard, but it felt like a blink of an eye before each and every one woke up to a note pinned to their door.

_Before the rise of the moon, there will be a royal meeting. I, of course, expect all of you to come. There are some things that need to change, and the sooner, the better._

_-King Ryan_

Gavin rolled the paper into a ball, dropping it into a bucket that served as a wastebasket. He made a note to get a bucket of lava, thinking of pouring it in a small pit in the corner of the home to keep it warm, but turned instead to focus on dressing. His movements were slow and stiff, the depression seeping into his bones deeper than any cold, and as he put each layer of furs on, he didn't feel warmer, just heavier. Putting his bag on his belt, he paused, seeing Geoff's enchanted diamond sword in the corner.

He walked over, picking it up lovingly and caressing the blue blade, not a hair duller from the period of disuse, though it could use a good polishing. Gavin was tempted to put it back, but after a moment of indecision, instead strapped it to his waist. His little wooden knife was nothing against the diamond, and there was no sense in wasting it. Tugging on the diamond helmet, glad that it kept each of the furs in place snugly, he put the Creeper skin on top, using straps to keep it flat against his body. He looked at his reflection in a bucket of water, seeing dark circles under his eyes and a thin, pinched look to his cheeks. He rubbed at his face, feeling very little before turning away and grabbing a loaf of bread, setting out for the trek to the throne room.

Ray met him on the way, falling into step with Gavin without a word, feeling the oppressive silence Gavin had wrapped himself in. He looked over his shoulder to see the massive Creeper statue, a silent prayer to Geoff's peace on his lips, turning again towards the throne. It wasn't yet visible, but it would be soon.

He took a bite of the well made bread listlessly, tasting nothing. He knew he needed to eat, could almost hear Geoff's admonishments for his physical state, letting his body waste away in grief, and so, forced himself to choke down a few bites. When his throat refused to let any more pass, though, he offered it silently to Ray, who took it and made short work of the loaf. The walls of the throne's courtyard began to loom in the distance, both of them staring at it in mild apprehension. It was closer than it seemed, and they arrived soon, standing before a locked gate with Jack, who had arrived early, all equally confused.

“Have you seen Michael?” Ray asked, peeking in the gate to see if Ryan was there already.

Jack shook his head. “I checked up on him in his house, but he was gone when I checked, the note too, so I think he left early, though I don't know where he went. It doesn't seem like me went here.”

Just as the words left his lips, Michael was seen, coming out from behind the throne. He wore only basic armor, leather that had been studded with diamond, making flexible, and strong, protection. It had even been dyed, dark and imposing. His curls peeked out from under a pelt, the skin of an unknown animal serving as his helmet. The usual bright smile was nowhere to be seen, instead a harsh expression as he marched to the gate. He glared at each of them in turn until they took a step back, and only then did he open the gate with an air of ritual.

“Come in.” Michael stood to the side, watching them enter, and once all three were inside, locked the gate behind them. Ray's eyes widened in alarm, but Jack looked at ease, though resigned.

“What the he--” Ray's words were but off with a sharp rap to the head from the hilt of Michael's sword.

“Don't speak when his majesty has not yet given you permission.” Ray rubbed at his head, his brow furrowed. It wasn't a hard tap, more of a warning, but it did not bode well.

“But--” Jack clapped a hand over Ray's mouth, Michael raising his sword pointedly. Jack shook his head, pulling Ray back. Michael's eyes narrowed, but he allowed Ray to go without another hit, putting his sword away and turned towards the throne, stepping on the lowest stair and gazing out over the courtyard.

At some unseen signal, Michael straightened, shoulders tight and tense. “His majesty,” he stomped his foot on the ground. “Kneel before the king.”

Jack complied immediately, on his knees before Ray and Gavin even understood. Ray and Gavin hesitated, but Jack reached to either side and jerked them down hard enough that to avoid face-planting, they ended up on their knees. At that point, there was nothing to do but stay that way.

They heard heavy steps and the soft sound of fabric dragging on the ground, almost silent when he reached the carpet. Once settled and comfortable, he made a motion to Michael, who stomped once more. “You may rise, but remember your place.”

They got to their feet slowly, Ray making a smart move and removing his helmet. Gavin followed suit, flipping back the hood and pulling off the helmet, letting the leather hoods rest on top of the Creeper skin. Ryan kept them there, standing uncomfortably, and increasingly awkward, for long enough that even Jack looked like he wanted to leave. Then, he spoke.

“I'm so glad to see all of you here on time. Early, even.” He smiled as though it was meant to be reassuring, but Gavin just looked away. “Now, as you have probably noticed, I am going to be a much different ruler than Geoff. While his reign was undeniably benevolent, his kindness allowed the kingdom to stagnate and grow frail. We must always be seeking greater and greater heights, and trimming off any... unnecessary branches to promote the growth of the whole. To this end, I am instituting laws and positions in my land. Michael here, as you can see, is my royal guard. What king could do better than Mogar himself?”

Michael beamed with the compliment, face lighting up in pride and standing so straight he might have had a plank tied to his back. Jack inclined his head in acknowledgment, waiting for their given occupations.

“Now, I know each of you have your differing strengths, and I am not going to give you sometime entirely unlike you. For example, I'd never put Michael in charge of building a house, or Gavin in charge of teaching the children to read.” Gavin flushed at the insult. At least, he thought it was an insult, but it was given in such a neutral tone that he questioned himself. Before he could get too far into his thoughts, Ryan continued.

“I have put quite a good deal of time into this, and so I believe the positions will be a good fit for all of you.” He pointed to Jack and beckoned him forward. Jack took a few steps and stared at him, mildly discomforted. Ryan's eyes narrowed, flicking his fingers to Michael. Michael pulled out a dull wooden sword, more of a staff, really, and bashed Jack in the back of the knees. Jack cried out in pain, collapsing, taking a hissing breath.

“My apologies, my liege,” Jack managed after a moment. “I should have knelt immediately.”

Ray made as if to step forward, wanting to beat the shit out of Michael, but before he got more than a step away, Michael had his diamond sword out, aiming the point at Ray's throat. “Don't. You're more useful alive.”

Ray flinched visibly, blanching. He eased back slowly, standing shoulder to should with Gavin, who made no effort to look up from the frosted carpet at his feet.

“Now, if that little... incident is over, we can continue.” Ryan sounded more amused than anything else, and Jack sighed softly. “Jack, you are in charge of all construction, and your first assignment is to build me a proper home. The Kung Fu House served well, but I think it is a bit... small to serve as royal quarters.”

Jack inclined his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Go back to your friends.” Jack rose and smoothly returned to the other two, closing his eyes for a moment when a slight pain pierced his chest. _Your friends,_ Jack noticed. _Not mine._

“Ray.”

Ray stumbled forward, almost tripping before glaring at Michael icily, kneeling only reluctantly. He knelt more quickly, however, when Michael put a hand to the sword, and lowered his head. “Yes?”

“You'll end your sentences with 'your majesty' or 'my liege' when you speak, Ray.” Ryan's tone was sharp, his patience nearing an end for Ray's impudence.

Ray licked his lips. “Yes, your... your majesty.”

“Much better. Isn't it better when we all play nice?” Ryan's smile was easily heard in his words, a faint chuckle escaping after. Ray agreed quietly, then waited for his assignment.

“You will be in charge of creating, and heading, a new army. Gather members from Villages and train them. I expect to begin our first forays into the wilderness to expand our borders within one moon of the spring solstice.” He beckoned to Michael, murmuring something in his ear before Michael nodded, leaving the area and returning with a stack of maps, setting them before Ray. “These are our best guesses as to what lies outside the borders of the kingdom. I expect you to make additions as you recruit.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Ray assented, voice trembling as he picked up the maps and began to look them over with forced curiosity.

“You may join your fellows.” With the same sinking feeling Jack had, he joined the group once more, holding the maps carefully, making sure not to bend a corner or tear them. “And now you... Gavin.”

Gavin strode forward, kneeling with little regard. His world felt surreal and foggy, words just barely piercing the misery he wrapped around himself. “Yes, your majesty?” He asked in a monotone, eyes staring at, but not really seeing, the rich red of the carpet.

“You are going to prison for the murder of the previous king.”

Gavin's head jerked up in surprise, shock mirroring on Jack and Ray's faces. “What?!”

Michael grabbed Gavin's hair and forced his gaze back to the ground, his grip making tears come to Gavin's eyes from the burning on his scalp. Ryan shifted in his seat, making a note to get more furs to lay on top of the unforgiving metal. “Let him go.”

Michael's fingers released Gavin, but he stood protectively nearby, in case Gavin should make some sort of move towards the king. However, he just gaped, unable to make sense of this ridiculousness.

Jack stepped forward, falling into a graceful kneel. “Your majesty, if I may ask, what is the evidence of this?”

“The previous king did not die from sickness. He died from poison. I found this stuffed under the bed, as though to be hidden.” Something thudded down the steps as Ryan let it fall from his fingers, rolling to a step before Gavin's nose. His eyes widened as he saw the distinctive tag around the neck. With shaking hands, he reached out and turned it over; written in Ray's barely legible hand, was Gavin's name. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan’s rule is very different than Geoff’s, and the punishments are far stricter— and crueler.

Frozen in place, Gavin could only stare in mute horror at the bottle. Ryan's words echoed in his head, drowning all thoughts.

_You killed the king. You killed the king. You killed--_

Gavin straightened to meet Ryan's eyes, his own emotions deadened. He didn't hear the orders, time seeming to move far too quickly and all too slowly for his mind to keep up with. His arms were taken, pulled behind his back, a thong of leather tying them in place and preventing any attempt to move. He couldn't even think, let alone move, but that didn't stop Ryan. He turned to look over his shoulder when he felt hands on his back, pushing gently; Jack.

His eyes were unfocused, only recognizing the man due to the beard and glasses glinting in the torchlight. A hard shove against his lower back made him stumble forward, almost pitching towards the ground face first but for Jack catching him and arresting the fall, but it didn't matter. It just didn't matter.

Allowing himself to be steered without resisting, he was marched around the throne to the door leading to the servants' quarters. He noticed only dimly that the door was iron now, and there was no lever or pressure plate on the inside, and iron bars delineated even smaller cells inside. He was unceremoniously dumped on a small cot made of metal, his hands stilled tied, and the door closed behind him. There was no leaving. Not without any sort of tools, which, he noticed, he no longer had.

A small flurry of panic sent him into a fit of action, twisting and writhing on the bed to attempt to get free of the restraints, to get at least a small knife. He had never felt more naked in his life, for all the furs and clothing he wore. He just needed a weapon, anything at all, even a rock. All be succeeded in doing though was rolling off of the bed and hitting the floor hard enough to make his head reel in pain and the world to tilt around him. He lay there, facedown, and sniffling hard.

When the door closed, he was left in utter darkness. He tried to raise himself up, managing to roll onto his side, but there was nothing. The iron door was closed fast, the metal sheet too thick to let even a sliver of light in.

Hopeless, he began to cry.

\---

The moon's light was slanted and the torches doused before Ray slipped out into the night, leaving a sleeping Jack in the slum that was the new servant quarters. The night curled around him protectively, a soft snowfall further aiding him by obscuring his form in the darkness. The iron door was little obstacle to Ray, picking the lock quietly with many paranoid looks over his shoulder, closing it almost the entire way, but not quite, to make sure he could get out.

He heard soft sounds coming from the furthest corner, sidling over to see Gavin on the floor, crying. “Gavin!” Ray hissed. “Gavin!”

Gavin's head only slowly turned to face Ray, his wet face shining in the tiny strip of light afforded by the crack in the door. He sniffled once before wriggling over to face the darker man. “H-hi...” He hiccuped.

“Look, I can't help you escape, but listen,” Ray reached between the bars, reaching out with a knife. “Let me cut the leather so you can move again. We can make it look like it split in your wiggling.” Gavin squirmed his way over, pressing his hands against the bars so the knife could slice the leather in two cleanly, not even nicking his skin.

Rubbing feeling back into his wrists, he sat up, cross-legged. “Why are you here? You're just going to get hurt...”

Ray let a soft laugh escape into the nippy air, his breath visible. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

Gavin pulled his legs up, cold, and wrapped his arms around them. “I killed Geoff...”

He heard a sharp intake of breath. “No! I don't believe that. Why would you ever think that?” Gavin buried his head in his arms.

“That potion... Ryan must have given him mine and it killed him. I'm terrible. I should never have been brought to Achievement City.” He sniffed again as he screwed his eyes shut tight, trying to prevent the tears that were threatening to fall, but when he felt his arm grow wet, he gave up trying.

“No, man, no, that can't be right. I trust you. You lived in your own for a damn long time, I'm sure you made a fine potion!” Ray was insistent, firm in this. “I believe in you.”

Gavin shrugged slightly. “I'm stupid...”

Ray's heart twinged painfully. He knew that feeling-- it was what he felt when he didn't speak the language Geoff had when he was saved. It was how he felt when he couldn't get things Geoff liked fast enough to thank him. It was when he found out Geoff liked roses and so, he spent his life, collecting him and piling them everywhere, just to see Geoff's smile.

“You aren't,” he said firmly. “I promise.” Gavin shook his head, but didn't respond negatively, and Ray took it was a victory hard won. “I'll be back, alright? Just sit tight, and I'll find a way to get you out, okay?”

Gavin's noncommittal shrug was the only answer he received as he stood, heading towards the door. He yawned tiredly, reaching out to the wall to steady himself in the darkness, glad for the solidity of st-- _where was the moonlight!?_

The panic began to well in his breast, quelled immediately when he was suddenly struck hard by a gloved fist, and he knew no more.

\---

A bucket of cold water jolted Ray awake, shaking his head to try and clear it of the knockout grogginess. He just managed in making his world tip and tilt, moaning painfully and leaning back down. He was on a chair, sitting backwards and tied down tightly, he slowly realized, when he was unable to move. He was even shirtless, which, while normally comfortable, here, he felt vulnerable. There was little light, but even that was uncomfortable, so he kept his eyes closed.

“What's going on?”

In answer, he was given a sharp slap across his face, metal on a glove splitting his lip. The hand was shaken slightly to attempt to remove the sticky liquid.

“Disgusting...”

Ray spat out the globule of blood pooling in his mouth, probing the wound with his tongue cautiously. It wasn't too bad, just a nick, really, though it certainly enjoying bleeding. He craned his head as much as he could to see who the one causing this was.

Michael stood before him, casually wiping off Ray's blood and spittle from his glove. “I can't believe you got fucking spit on my glove. You better not cause the iron to rust, you prick.”

Ray sighed, letting his head rest on the wooden backing. This was not going to be good, and if Michael had anything to do with it, it was going to be vicious.

“Don't speak to him except to tell him why he's here. Just enact the punishment, and be done with it.” Ryan' spoke out from behind Ray, far out of his sight. The deep rumble in his voice made Ray shudder, his muscles tensing. Ryan chuckled, clearly having noticed. “I would advise against tightening your muscles. It hurts more that way.”

“What does? A little slap or two?” He snorted, though he was in no position to mouth off.

A loud crack echoed in the confined space, Ray jumped hard enough in shock that the chair rattled against the stone. Ray swallowed convulsively. He couldn't stop the small “oh” of comprehension, the blood running from his face to leave him in an ashen pallor.

“'Oh' is right, Ray. Don't tell me you've never been flogged before, with a mouth like yours.” Ryan's words were punctuated with a sharp snap of the whip on Ray's bare back, making him arch and hiss.

The whip was merciless, falling again, and again, until Ray's resolve failed him around the fifth strike and he screamed out in pain. Blood was dripping sluggishly from his back, pooling in the opened cuts, the marks crossing over one another. Each new stroke by necessity intersected with a previous one, and that hurt more than the whip itself, the forked tip digging in harshly before it was pulled away and applied again.

By the twentieth strike though, he was silent, head hanging limply as he simply tried to stay awake, refusing to give Ryan the satisfaction of seeing him lose consciousness. His world was a blur of pain, some searing, some slow and burning, like a deep ache that wouldn't fade in intensity. When the twenty-fifth mark was laid bare, he didn't even stir.

Ryan's voice was a murmur he couldn't understand, in the background haze of his mind. He was only dimly aware of being released and laid face down in a bed, some cooling salve applied to his back, before his will was bested and he could not longer fight the darkness at the edge of his vision, falling into unconsciousness.

\---

“You've done so well, Michael.” Michael turned to Ryan, the blood splatters across his face splitting into a beaming smile.

“Anything for you, my king.” Michael dropped the whip at Ryan's motion, watching his fingers curl, beckoning the lad closer. Michael's heel caught on some of the blood, tipping forward with an indigent yelp and landing on his hands an knees hard, hissing at the harsh crack of his knees against the unforgiving material. His head looked up at Ryan from that position, eyes watering in pain, but the grin sincere. “I love when you give me my lead.”

Ryan's chest rumbled in laughter, leaning forward and catching Michael's jaw in his hand gently. Michael lost his breath, peering into the endless sky of Ryan's eyes, Ryan's gaze piercing into Michael's very being. “Such a good boy you've been.”

Michael all but nuzzled into Ryan's hand, creeping closer hesitantly, but when Ryan patted his thigh invitingly, Michael's pace sped up as he rushed to lay his head on Ryan. Ryan pet him softly, intermingling his fingers with the curls. Michael sounded rather like a cat, almost purring.

Ryan wiped some of Ray's blood from Michael's face, rubbing his fingers together. Michael kept his gaze locked on Ryan's hand, licking his lips thoughtlessly. Ryan's smirk grew. “You must be so thirsty from all that punishing.”

Michael swallowed dryly. “A bit, but it's nothing.”

Ryan pressed his blood-coated fingers to Michael's lips, Michael blinking a few times in surprise, but within a moment, his tongue flicked out and licked the fingers clean. Ryan repeated the motion until Michael's face was clean, but with the last lick, he pushed his fingers into Michael's mouth. Michael almost pulled away, his head twitching, but after he realized, he simply continued the cleaning, sucking and lapping at the digits. When Ryan finally pulled away, Michael went with the fingers for a last lap, whining as Ryan wiped the spittle clean on Michael's tunic. Michael rested his head on Ryan's lap once more, nuzzling more blatantly.

“A good boy indeed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m a little iffy on this chapter, it’s annoying me a bit. It feels off, and I don’t know why. Feedback would be must appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Punishment was fitting for the murderer of the king. On this, Ryan and Gavin agreed. What they didn’t agree on, though, was who was responsible.

It was three days before Gavin saw sunlight again, squinting and shying away from it and covering his eyes. Michael stood before the cell door, staring down impassively at him while Gavin attempted to hide in the corner, wishing the ground would split open and swallow him. Anywhere was safer than before Michael, the anger perpetually in his eyes a common precursor to a sharp snapping of words that shamed and belittled.

“The king will see you.” The gate opened with a loud clang. Gavin inched forward slowly, allowing his eyes to adjust, though the light was still painful. It was hard to move; he hadn't had food, either, and his head swam. The sunlight was just the nail in the coffin, making him weak-- and pliable.

His stomach didn't even growl at this point, though it constantly hurt. He licked his lips, glad for the slight trickle of rain that had fallen through the cobble, but by no means was he hydrated. He leaned against the wall, unable to properly stand, eyes trained on the ground.

Michael stared for a few moments, tilting his head as he eyed the boy. He was pitiful, that much was certain. Filthy too. A dunk in the lake would be in order before seeing Ryan. Michael didn't feel like waiting for Gavin to limp his way around, weak as he was, and took the initiative, hefting the boy over his shoulder and setting out. Gavin made a soft 'oomph' as the air left his lungs, but relaxed against Michael gratefully. He knew it wasn't from kindness that he was carried, but was relieved nonetheless.

A quick rinse in the lake later, he was plunked before Ryan on the ground, falling immediately to his knees. His hair was still wet, and he shivered, but didn't look up. He saw Jack's feet diagonally from him, diamond armor shined so much that he saw his reflection.

He was a mess. He was thin, though there was only so much weight he could have lost in three days, but he looked miserable. He certainly felt miserable, at any rate.

“Your Majesty, here is Gavin, as you requested.” Michael's words were almost simpering, begging for attention and praise.

“Good boy.” Ryan's rumble made Michael squirm in pleasure, Gavin noticing his feet make a little dance. “Now... Onto you.” Gavin didn't move, resting on his knees, sometimes leaning on a hand when he lost his balance.

“I have a proposal for you.” The silence after made Gavin raise his eyes enough to see Ryan, though his eyes watered from the light reflecting off of the gold. “I have considered your usefulness and your punishment, and I don't feel that leaving you in prison is the best use of your abilities. Providing you agree to all rules and laws I set forth, now or in the future, I will allow you free, as a servant to do as I please.”

Gavin's head lolled forward, exhausted already. He nodded, and choking on the dryness in his throat, answered quietly, “Yes, Your Majesty.” A cough quickly followed, but he swallowed down the worst hacking, trying to avoid angering Ryan as much as he could.

Ryan must have made a motion of some sort, because suddenly, Jack as beside him with a bucket of water. He pulled it away when Gavin attempted to down all of it as quickly as possible, sorrow creasing his brow when Gavin whined pathetically. “No, no, you can't drink it all this quickly. You'll just get sick. Drink just a little, and eat just a bit of bread.” He held out the food and Gavin didn't even bother to try to grab it, merely taking a bite from the proffered loaf.

He was pathetic, on his hands and knees and biting at food like an animal, slurping down water when Jack didn't move it away fast enough, but too soon, in Gavin's estimation, Jack pulled it all away. Gavin reached up, pawing at Jack as he began to walk away and whining. He crawled forward a few steps, but quickly gave up, slumping to the ground. A dismissive snort from above, and Gavin was hauled up again, and taken away. He was set on a bed, the wool feeling so very soft under him, and he was asleep almost immediately.

A hard kick against the frame sent Gavin in a panic, lurching to sit up and flailing for stability, though he managed only in knocking himself out of the bed in a tangle of blankets and onto the floor. He swallowed hard, looking up fearfully.

Michael snorted in derision, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword as though it belonged there permanently. “Your first orders. Get dressed. Your clothing is on the shelf over there,” he pointed to the mess of iron armor and green fabric, “and then the king wants you before him.”

Michael turned on his heel smartly, marching out and slamming the door behind him. Rubbing at his eyes, he sighed and leaned forward, resting on his knees for a moment. He took in the details of the room he was too tired to see before; it was a studio style, with a bed, some shelves, and a small fireplace, even. There was a plate of food on the nightstand, and before dressing, he picked up the apple and bit into it gratefully. It was small, and a bit dry, but he couldn't complain all that much. It was winter rations, after all. He was lucky to have food. Remembering Jack's advice from before, he ate as slowly as he could, all but nibbling as he wandered over to look at the provided clothing.

It wasn't quite iron armor, but leather undergarments dyed Creeper green under the oddly made armor; instead of large plates, they were small pieces attached to the leather, almost like the scales on Creepers, overlapping. Once on, he understood it much more. With smaller pieces, he had much more flexibility and maneuverability, as well as the armor being lighter. Biting into the last apple piece, he headed out.

Following a hallway, he paused at a window, looking outside to try and ascertain where he was. All he saw was snow, so that wasn't much help, but he exited anyway. Wincing at the light still, he covered his eyes from the sun, reaching back in memory of his usual hood. His fingers brushed against piled fabric and the clink of metal, surprising him. He pulled curiously, revealing a hood that was similar to his old one, but rather that an old Creeper pelt, it was a new one, studded with scales of metal. He pulled it over his head, the stiffness of the hood helping with the light issue immensely. Though, it still didn't help him figure out where he was.

He looked around, seeing only smooth stone built into walls with a walkway on top, as well as a smooth path under his feet of some dark wood. Shuffling in place for a moment, he simply followed the path.

It turned out to be the best decision, and as he cut through the trees, the familiar structure of the throne room became evident. His expression slackened some, blood leaving his face in remembered fear, but after a long moment, he took in a deep breath, forced his back straight, and strode in as confidently as he could.

Silence fell in the court, eyes locked onto Gavin as he stomped up the carpet, ceasing only before the steps of the throne. The golden crown rested neatly on Ryan's smooth hair, eyes hooded as he looked down at Gavin. Gavin threw back his hood in a swift motion, and then lowered himself to one knee. He didn't speak.

Ryan assessed Gavin, making a motion idly towards a servant, who immediately held out the wine bottle, pouring a new glass for him. Gavin didn't move, the soft wind ruffling his wild hair. He shivered once, but was otherwise still. Ryan's chest shook in a silent chuckle before draining the glass, setting it back on the tray. He stood, the fine red cape flowing behind him as he stepped down.

Gavin chest clenched when he saw the king's feet stop before his face, fear knotting in his stomach as though he swallowed rocks. He jerked when a hand rested on his shoulder, though he had enough sense to not look up. “Y-your Majesty,” he choked out, feeling the words catch in his throat.

“You may stand.” Ryan took a step back as Gavin unfolded himself, the boy's eye level a good few inches lower than his own. “I'm so proud of you.”

Gavin flinched as though he had been struck as titters erupted behind Ryan between the servants. Michael's voice was clearly meant to be under his breath, but the irritated and jealous tone was easily heard in the murmur.

Ryan rose his hand and the court fell silent, lowering it only when he knew nobody would speak again. Gavin, for his part, was attempting to breathe again. Proud? Of him? He had just locked him up and deprived him of food and probably hurt Ray when he came and visited and this didn't make any sense--

“Yes. I'm so proud of you, Gavin.” The deep bass of Ryan's voice was soft, a smile easily heard. It sounded like Geoff's voice when Gavin showed him he'd written his name for the first time.

A choked noise from Gavin's throat all but echoed in the courtyard, and Ryan tilted his head, looking like a confused puppy. “Gavin?”

“I-- I can't believe you. I can't fucking believe you.” Gavin was shaking, hands balled up into fists. “That you would do that-- do this-- to me.”

Ryan leaned back, pulling away his hand. Mildly impressed, yes, but that wasn't quite what he had in mind. “Explain.”

Gavin reacted faster than he anticipated, and a metal-covered fist flew at his face, knocking off the crown to tumble amongst the stones, the king staggering back a few paces. He rose a hand to his face, fingers coming back bloodied. He spit out a cracked tooth, knowing a hell of a bruise was coming on, and turned to Gavin. The small man was still standing tall, eyes wide and hyperventilating in fear, but not backing down an inch.

Ryan's eyes narrowed, and though he heard Michael clamoring down the stairs, the distinctive noise of a blade leaving its sheath following, he didn't leave Gavin's eyes. “Michael. _Down._ ”

A cut off gasp, but the noise ceased, followed by a faint whine. “I said no, Michael, or do I need to give you a lashing too?”  
“No, my liege. My apologies.” Michael was prompt, and though the words were sincere enough, the rage in his eyes made Gavin feel rooted in place. Michael raised his hand and slid hid finger across his throat. A warning.

Gavin took in what felt like the first breath he had since the punch had been thrown, shocked at himself. Ryan was crouching just a bit, sidling closer towards Gavin; he recognized it as the stance Ryan took when he was planning on fighting, his own hands sliding down his sides, searching desperately for a sword, a knife, anything.

A loose scale rattled free into his hand, but he kept his hands moving, thumbing the edge discreetly. It was plenty sharp, sharp enough that the leather split like butter under a hot knife. He shifted it between his first and second fingers, the color of the weapon hidden in the scales on the leather, lowering himself to a crouch. If Ryan wanted to do this, they'd--

He leapt to the side, reacting faster than his mind could keep up to Ryan's lung, a knife appearing and cutting into the air where Gavin was only a moment before. Ryan's eyes widened as he realized that Gavin had moved, and the sinking feeling of falling began to pull on his limbs. He had overextended himself and lost his balance.

Gavin struck, a forceful punch to Ryan's exposed cheek, and the larger man spun, blood spurting from the wound as he was propelled away. He shoved the cape to the side as it threatened to catch his ankles together, skidding on one foot before kicking off towards Gavin. Gavin jumped higher than really seemed possible, his heart thudding in his ears, a foot landing on Ryan's shoulder, then his head, and he was in the air, pulling his legs up to avoid being grabbed, managing to grasp onto the edge of the wall.

He looked over his shoulder, regretting the decision to see Ryan's bloodthirsty expression as he rushed forward, pulling up and kicking himself over the wall. He landed heavily, a pain shooting up his left leg, and he hissed, a hand on his knee. The sounds of Ryan ordering for a sword, for Michael to follow, though, propelled him forward, into the white woods, disregarding his pain and focusing on making his escape.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reign of the king may be pervasive, but guilt finds its way into everybody’s heart.

Ryan rubbed his forehead with the back of his arm, a trail of blood brazen in the noonday light. Ray’s prone figure was slumped against the tree stump, barely even breathing. His skin reacted slowly to the cool breeze, goosebumps only appearing after a long few seconds. The blood dribbled from the wounds sluggishly, Ray’s head sideways on the wood and his eyes closed behind his glasses. Somehow, they had not yet broken. Long, shallow breaths inflated his chest, one after another. Having given up hope for mercy a long, long time ago, he merely endured, hoping that Gavin was safe.

Ryan scowled and dropped the whip, the sharp rose barbs on it sticking into the ground tenaciously, much as they had dug into the flesh of Ray’s back. He held out his hand, irritated that the game had broken so quickly.

“A healing potion.” Michael pressed one into his hand silently. Even his loud brusqueness had been quieted by the absolute cruelty waged against Ray in substitute for Gavin.

Ryan forced Ray’s head up, shoving his mouth open, and clamped his fingers on Ray’s nose. Ray writhed pathetically, wanting to avoid more torture, but eventually, his body won and his mouth gasped open, only to be filled with the cloying taste of the healing potion. Ryan made sure he downed every drop before throwing the bottle against the wall in a mild fit, the shattering making Michael jump in spite of himself.

Ray’s broken skin slowly pressed together, muscle reknitting and blood flowing again as his body suddenly produced that which had left his body for the fourth time that day. Ryan waited til he was entirely healed, Ray’s body shaking as tears fell from his eyes. He felt no pain after the potion, but he expected it with every second, and his mind was tormented.

“Put him in his house.” Michael nodded, Jack stepping forward with him to put up the darker man’s limp body, hoisting it smoothly with Jack, leaving slowly to account for having to walk in sync.

They were silent for the trek back, avoiding stepping in the blood-soaked grass around the stump, though when Michael’s foot landed on a large weft of muscle on the ground, his expression twisted, revulsion shuddering his body for a moment. It was a totally different feeling to step on flesh, to know that something that had once been attached to Ray now felt like nothing more than flesh stripped from a cow. A visceral moment made his steps stutter, Jack pausing to allow him to control himself. Michael swallowed down the bile that threatened to escape, shaking his head, and they took off again.

————

Ryan flopped on his throne, the wool he had placed as a seat doing absolutely nothing to help soften the blow of gold on his bottom, wincing and shifting positions. He reached out, fingering the gold crown he had made, pulling it off to gaze at it more closely. He saw a blurry, fleeting reflection of himself in the torchlight, resplendent in red and black, but his eyes tired and hollow. He didn’t recognize himself.

He threw the crown against the wall, slumping forward to rest his head in his hands, glad he had raised the walls and created a roof to give himself privacy. Where did he go so wrong? The lava in the corner popped, the reddish glow giving the ground’s terrain dramatic shadows for just a moment, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw a bright gleam off of Geoff’s orange visor.

He spun in his seat, looking for him wildly, and while he knew Geoff was dead –he had killed him himself– he couldn’t stop the faint hope of seeing the sleepy-eyed man leaning against a wall somewhere, chuckling as if it had all been a joke. But there was nothing, and no one. He kicked at the throne in anger, the cape flaring out as his toe connected painfully. He recoiled, immediately regretting his decision, and in the hop backwards, his foot landed on the fur trim, tripping him and launching his body down the stairs harshly. He rolled, tucking himself together after a moment, realizing that he couldn’t stop the twisting and turning, his world revolving again and again until he slowly rolled to a stop near the crown.

He uncurled to lay on his back, looking up into the dark ceiling, each crack, fissure, and seam in the stone etching themselves into his memory. He rubbed his face, palms against his eyes hard enough that his vision erupted in colors and shapes, only then letting his hands up. Following the fleeting shapes, he watched them fade away with each second until his vision was only as good as the torches allowed, nothing but a dull red-orange glow dominating the room.

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out like this.” He spoke to the stone as if it would understand him, or could comfort him. “It wasn’t mean to be like this.”

_Then what, Ryan?_  The stone asked without asking.  _What was it meant to be?_

“I was going to be a great king, to do great things. I wanted to make them see that, to make him listen.”

_What have you accomplished?_

Ryan sighed. “I have extended the borders of the land. Achievement City defeated the Skeletons in the North and we reach to the ocean. We have a stable trade route with the Eastern Village rather than the tenuous pass before–”

_Was it worth killing Geoff?_

“It— it was for the—”

_The Greater Good only matters if what you have brought is worth the price. You have brought nothing worth a man’s life._

“The kingdom—!”

_—Is in ruins. It is collapsing around you. It has only been a season, barely four moons, and yet the Villagers shy away from you. Michael no longer jokes with you. And Gavin is gone entirely._

“He couldn’t handle what was going on.” Ryan sat up with a snarl. “He didn’t understand what I was doing!”

_Who can, Ryan? You certainly can’t. You’re arguing with yourself— and losing._

“Bah!” Ryan snatched the crown off of the ground, shoving it back on his head. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You aren’t even real.”

_Of course not._  The reply was soft, just a murmur in the back of his mind.  _I just hope you understand that._

————-

Michael sat uneasily on the ground of Ray’s home, sighing. Mirroring the king’s slumped form, his head in his hands, he closed his eyes. How had this begun? It was madness that had Ryan in its grip, and they had just let him take the crown. He had been a fool.

Jack sat down heavily next to Michael. “Don’t lose yourself in your thoughts. They’re heading down a dark path.”

“What the hell do you know?” Michael snarled, his teeth bright in the gloom of the dirt house.

“I helped raise you with Geoff. I know more than people seem to realize.” Jack lowered his head, voice regretful.

Michael frowned deeply, wanting to snap but knowing Jack was right. “Yeah… Whatever. It doesn’t change a fucking thing.” He stood up, dusting himself off, glancing to Jack when the bearded man didn’t follow suit. “What?”

Jack hesitated, shoulders hunched, before shaking his head. “No, you’re right. It doesn’t matter.”

“No! You were gonna say something. What the fuck was it?!” Michael leaned over Jack, but Jack’s gaze skittered across the ground, avoiding looking at him.

“I said nothing,” Jack pushed Michael aside as he rose up, his pursed lips and furrowed eyes clearly telling Michael that the matter was not up for conversation.

“Goddammit, Jack!” Michael slammed his hands into Jack’s shoulders, the taller, broader man taken by surprise and falling back against the wall, staring at Michael over the rims of his fallen glasses. He pushed them up thoughtlessly, Michael’s expression coming more into focus, and with it, Jack understood.

Michael’s eyes were almost tearing up, shining brightly with excess water, cheeks reddened. His hair hung in lank waves rather than the tight curls he usually sported, the bearskin hat in utter ruin, the fur matted and dirty.

“You actually liked him.” Jack sighed, pinching the brow of his nose. “I don’t get it. Why were you so mean to him? You all but threw him at Ryan.”

“I know!” Michael wailed, pulling at his hair, much like a frustrated child. Jack pulled his hands away, forcing him to release the bedraggled locks. “I didn’t mean to do that! I thought if I acted like I hated him, when Ryan came to power, he would just, I don’t know, exile him or something, not— not make him into the killer!”

Jack’s eyes shifted guiltily to the side. “Michael, I need to tell you something.” Michael made a noncommittal grunt, shrugging as if it didn’t matter anymore. In a way, it didn’t. But he felt compelled to tell the truth now.

“Gavin didn’t kill Geoff.” Michael frowned, thinking that over as he raised his head slowly, putting the pieces together bit by bit. “Ryan did.”

The gears in Michael’s brain went into overdrive, little things he remembered suddenly so much clearer; the little comments of  _only as long as Geoff is here_ , the ever present brooding over maps, the trip to the Nether before the Tithe— it all made sense.

“Oh— oh my god.  _Ryan killed Geoff._ ” Michael leant against the wall for support, the world suddenly shifting under him too quickly to stand steadily. He reeled back suddenly, snarling, and punched the wall. The dirt shifted, falling on his glove and around from the impact. When his hand fell, the indent stayed, and he raised his fist once more, striking the same place, though without the venom that had marked the first, pounding the wall weakly. “Gavin was innocent. We— we tortured an innocent lad.”

Jack quirked a brow at the word Gavin had made up, but didn’t comment, pulling Michael’s hand over and tugging the glove off to inspect the damage done. Nothing too bad, but some purple bruises were already forming on his knuckles. “Don’t do that, you’re just going to hurt yourself.”

“It doesn’t matter, Jack.” Michael’s defeated tone matched his slumping shoulders and suddenly tired eyes. “He’s gone, and for all we know, he’s dead. Because of us.”

Jack lowered his head. “Yes. I’ve been complicit in a lot of terrible things that have happened.” He straightened, pushing his shoulders back and jutting out his chin. “But that’s going to change.” Michael glanced to Jack, his own back straightening a little, though still despondent. “We’re going to make it change.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Jack speaks, all Ryan hears is his own voice.

 Balance is a delicate thing. Appease the masses, and I lose myself. Appease myself, and I may lose the masses. It is a good thing the masses exist only to appease me.

Ryan flicked the scroll's seal open, disregarding Jack's crossed axe and shovel imprinted in the blood red wax in favor of reading the letter. His eyes trailed down to see that, for all the care the scroll was sealed with, the message itself was short.

_It is over._

Ryan's brows furrowed, eyes narrowing. Over? Nothing is over until he said it was. He balled up the paper, throwing it into the lava, listening to it hiss and pop before it was devoured entirely. He glanced up when a shadow fell across the throne, Jack standing at the door.

“What do you want? I didn't call for you.” Ryan straightened, looking down his nose imperiously. “Leave.”

“I'm afraid that isn't going to work, my _liege,_ ” Jack answered, making Ryan lean back, hand sliding to his side where he kept his sword, but his fingers closed on air. His head swung around to look, but the sword was indeed gone.

The whereabouts was made clear when Ray sauntered out from beneath the throne, sword in hand. Ryan snorted. “Michael!”

Michael, at his place at the bottom of the throne, turned with a carefully neutral expression. “My liege?”

“These vermin intrude. Be rid of them.”

Michael piqued a brow. “My apologies, but I think you ought to listen to their message.”

Ryan stood, flinging the cape behind himself, descending the throne to the penultimate step, glaring. “Begone, Jack, Ray. I don't have the patience for you. I'll have you flogged tomorrow. I need to deal with the Villagers today.”

“There's nothing to deal with, Ryan.” Michael leaned to the side, hand on his sword hilt. “They've refused to trade with Achievement City until a new kind holds the throne.”

“Then I will raze their village until they come begging,” he snapped. “That does not answer why Jack and Ray are not leaving with your sword at their throats.”

Jack strode forward, drawing even with Michael, Ray standing at Michael's left. He passed the sword over to Jack, who held it loosely at his side. Ryan's eyes flickered between the three, taking in the clear defiance, then, with forced leisure, returned to his throne and sat down, resting his cheek on a closed fist. “I will hear you.”

“Good.” Jack's voice rumbled, eerily similar to his own. “Things are changing here, and not for the better.”

“In your opinion,” Ryan waved the words away. “But mine are the only ones that matter.”

“Not anymore.” Ray hissed, uncharacteristically vicious, pulling his belt off. Only when the lave bubbled did he realize it wasn't a belt at all, but the rose-thorn flog Ryan had used on the boy only days before. Ray cracked it once it was free, but Ryan stood his ground and did not so much as flinch.

“What do you want?” Ryan adjusted the crown on his head, making it sit straight and even, rather than the sloppy angle it had been at before. “I assume there is an uprising of some sort.” A credit to himself; his voice did not crack. “And that you are going to kill me.”

“No.” That, though, made Ryan start. He leaned forward, fingers digging into the gold.

“What do you mean, 'no'? That's the only way you'll get me off of this throne.” Ryan bared his teeth. “I'll sooner die than release this kingdom to any of you.”

Ray's anger got the better of him, and the snapped the whip at the throne, the crack echoing and temporarily deafening his right ear. Again, Ray was displeased when Ryan didn't even acknowledge it. Jack put a soft hand on Ray's shoulder, whispering something. Ray sulked, but dragged the whip back, coiling it moodily.

“We are not king-killers.” _Unlike you,_ the unspoken words lingered in the air, as heavy as the crown on Ryan's head. “We will let you live.”

Ryan slammed a fist on the arm of the throne, standing once more and stalking down to Jack. Ray let the whip fall to the ground, prepared to strike, and Michael adjusted his stance, but Jack put a restraining hand on both of them. The lads looked at Jack, confused, but nonetheless, took a step backwards, leaving Ryan to march up to Jack, far too close for comfort.

“If you want my kingdom, _kill me._ ”

“No.”

Ryan's teeth clenched along with his fists. “Do it.”

“I won't.”

Ryan's fist collided with Jack's face, Michael making a yelp and leaping forward, but again, Jack's hand rose even as he stumbled. “You can do as you please, but I will not raise a hand to you.”

“Jack!” Michael and Ray cried in unison.

“Lads, leave it to me.” Jack turned his head back to face Ryan, his glasses knocked askew. He fixed them, and met Ryan's eyes, challenging. He turned the unbruised cheek to Ryan. “If this is how you want to fall, so be it.”

Ryan shoved Jack, but the bearded man was unmoved, looking at Ryan with... pity?

“I will not be pitied!” Ryan struck at Jack again, and the rapidly forming bruise had a match on Jack's other side. He took a deep breath.

“I am not pitying you. There is nothing to be gained from your death, Ryan. We just want our friend back.”

“There's nothing to be had!” Ryan raged, pacing and gesticulating violently. “I am your king, not your friend, and there is no returning to that!”

“And you will always be a king. But you will no longer rule over this land. Step down, Ryan. The next king can fix what you have broken.”

“Nothing needs fixed! Just kill enough Villagers and they'll bend their knee to me again, without a doubt!” Ryan ripped the cape off of himself, throwing it to the side. “Do you want my blood to end this, or my fealty?”

“Neither. I want Ryan back. Not the tyrant you have become.” Jack stepped forward after a moment of hesitation, putting a gentle hand on Ryan's shoulder. Ryan froze in place, stiffening.

“You will have neither.”

“You don't need to do this to yourself, Ryan.” Ryan breathed out shakily. Jack's voice was too close to his own for this to be anything but painful. “You have made your mistakes, as have we, letting this go on for so long. We can't bring back Geoff, but we can certainly remember him in our actions. Do you think Geoff would want what you've done?”

Ryan shoved Jack's arm off. “If you're not going to kill me, then be gone.” Jack watched silently as Ryan returned to his throne, flopping on it resignedly. “I will not wake with a dagger in my back.” He rummaged in the chest next to the throne, pulling out a bottled potion, unstoppering it and bringing it to his lips.

“No!” Jack bolted forward, but it was too late, the potion had already been half drunk by the time it was knocked from Ryan's hands.

Ryan met Jack's eyes evenly, leaning back against the throne and settled his hands on the arms, fingers dancing over the gold inlaid wood. There was a small click that, had even an ocelot been walking, would have been inaudible, but as it was, each sound echoed in the silent room.

“If I cannot have the throne, no one can.”

Jack's eyes widened. “You-- no, you can't have--”

An explosion rocked the throne room, the heat and wind blowing Jack's hair and beard back. Ryan smiled softly. “I advise you leave, Jack.” Jack stared mutely, hearing the lad's voices and screams behind him, calling him in panic to leave.

Ryan's expression twisted, rage gripping him in the last moment. “Begone of my presence!” He kicked at Jack's legs, the man dropping in shock, another kick with both of Ryan's feet sending him rolling. The incline of the throne and the momentum carried him out of the throne room in moments, the gate locking behind him.

Jack picked himself up at the last moment, reaching out towards Ryan, hearing a scream that could not be his own. “RYAN!”

Ryan merely smirked one more time, taking off the crown, looking at it, and just as the TNT exploded around him, let it fall, rolling and skipping down the throne like Jack, into the gate, its polish tarnished and a emerald falling out to sparkle in the trickle of sunlight seeping inside the ruined and empty throne room.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin’s POV  
> After the explosion went off, my only thoughts were of Ray’s safety.

The explosion made me jerk back into the hollow of the tree, peering out through hidden slats in the bark to try and get a glimpse of what was going on. It was impossible to tell, the black smoke obliterating any hope I had of understanding the cause. It wasn’t a Creeper, that was for sure— they exploded into clean white smoke, vanishing as quickly as the creatures life’s. But this one made the air heavy.

I leaned my head out and sniffed lightly, nose twitching as I caught just fleeting odors of the bomb. A faint prickling in my nostrils made me wriggle uncomfortably, failing to hold in a hard sneeze. I slunk back into the tree, eyes narrowed as I pawed at my nose, trying to avoid sneezing again and giving away my position. It could have well been a malicious explosion.

Another sneeze snapped my head forward into the tree, but my voice was silent from long-practiced habit, even as I rubbed at my head as a knot rose. The sneezing and itching was indicative of a redstone caused explosion, as well as the sand’s presence in the air. Of course, it was mostly glass, but the lingering sting of redstone made the cause clear: Humans.

Only humans made use of redstone, and the only humans around were those who lives in Achievement City. I bit my lip, worrying at it until it split, blood pooling in front of my teeth, but I wiped it away. I needed to check  on Ray.

———

I suppose I could have seen that coming, but blinking the daze out of my eyes and regaining hearing just in time to realize that Ray was apologizing profusely for hitting me, but that I really shouldn’t have covered his mouth before waking him, but he was sorry— I shook my head, putting up a hand, hoping to cut off the flow of words that threatened to drown me. Rubbing at my temples and moaning in annoyance as well as lingering pain, I stood, then finally looked at Ray.

He was so sorrowful, his slumped shoulders and wide eyes just begging for me to accept the apology. After a staredown, I couldn’t handle it— I burst into quiet, contained laughter. He almost looked offended, but at the last moment, laughed too. 

I finally straightened up, my stomach hurting from the exertion and rubbed the happy-tears from my eyes, sighing to regain my breath. “Ray, we need to go. It isn’t safe here.”

Ray tilted his head, looking like a confused baby Creeper upon encountering a Spider. “Why?”

"The bad king. He wants to hurt everyone." I wrung my hands, shifting my weight from side to side. I shouldn’t have taken the time to laugh— Ryan might have some redstone device monitoring for noise.

Ray’s eyes darkened, gaze dropping. I flattened against a wall, hand slipping into my bag of TNT, ready to fight, but Ray shook his head. I didn’t move, turning slowly to look at the door, but it was still closed, and there was not glint of gold in the peepholes. I didn’t relax, but I pulled my hand free of the bag.

"No, Gavin, he’s gone. He blew himself up."

I stood stock still, the possibilities flashing through my mind— Ray would never get hurt again. Ryan was gone. Forever.

I must have made an unusual noise, because Ray looked mildly uncomfortable and confused. “Is that a Creeper sound for joy, because it really sounds like one ready to explode.”

I shrunk a little, feet kicking at the ground. “Sorry. It’s a happy noise…”

There was an awkward silence til I rubbed at the nose and my hand came away red. Ray paled considerably. “Come on. Let’s go get Jack. He can help you.”

—-

The days passed slowly and sometimes, uncomfortably, as we tried to figure out what to do now that the monarchy was all but obliterated. Jack ended up making a new crown from roses, placing it on Ray’s head, saying that he was the only one fit to be king because he had stood true to his ideals, even in the face of death. He argued, of course, but it soon became part of his daily wear.

The Villagers returned one at a time, and now that the kingdom was ruled by a benevolent man, they set up a village of their own nearby, saving themselves the effort of the long trip. Pretty soon, they started a new craft— rose crown making. It became a biweekly event, a new crowning of Ray to unanimous applause and joy, as well as an expression of good faith. He never wore anything other than his normal clothes apart from the crown, and worked alongside everybody in the fields, trying to persuade the ground to return wheat for seeds.

Michael barricaded himself into his house for weeks, coming out only to eat and yell, but Ray instructed everybody to leave him alone and meet him when he was ready to interact with others, but not to push him to. Every once in a while, he dropped a cow carcass in the middle of Achievement City for everybody, and within a while, began inviting Jack on hunts.

It was awkward between us, and very difficult, but when I gave him the space he and I both needed to try to forgive, me to him and he to himself. I think the spark really kicked off our friendship at the first Midsummer’s Eve party.

He roasted an entire cow himself underground for days, and it was so incredibly tender it almost melted in my mouth. He gave me the choice piece, and when I ate it, I realized it was the first time he had given me food himself. He looked away, avoiding eye contact, but when I brought it up to Jack later in the party, he did say it was significant.

In the theme of the night, I gave him something in return— a block of TNT. He stared at it blankly, brow furrowing, and looked up to me. “Friends should share weapons.”

His mouth opened in surprise, jaw dropping, but rather than saying anything, he made a noise, shoved the dynamite in his bag and rushed off. I figured it would take more time. I understood, at least, enough to forgive him, so it would be okay.

At the end of the party, everybody pushed back from the table and holding their stomachs and groaning about eating too much, I smiled, finger toying with the edge of my plate. I’d finally found safety, love, and acceptance. I decided I’d never give up having a dish of my own again.


End file.
